The Madness Season
by Braxin
Summary: An AU adventure in what might have been.
1. Chapter 1

— **Chapter 01—**

At first, there existed only a vague awareness of consciousness, neither sex, nor name, nor face, nor species, nothing familiar for the mind to latch onto, and then slowly, over the course of an hour, disparate bits and pieces began to trickle in.

-:Trip. Mother. Enterprise. Earth. Soval. Archer. Blood Letting Ritual. V'Shar. Rajiin. Intrusion. Pain. Silence. Delphic Expanse:-

"As I said, I think she is coming out of it, Doctor," said a female's voice, and the patient recognized the language: Vulcan, her mother tongue.

"She is indeed, T'Lir," said a male's voice, calm and steady. "You were right to call me. Now, let us bring her up slowly."

-:Xindi. Weapon. P'Jem. Shran. Andorian. T'Les:-

The man's voice once more, "We set the electro-pads here, just so."

The female nodded, and said, "I see."

-:Darkness. Separation. Loss. Trip:-

"Now we modulate the current," said the man. "We begin gently. Very gently."

"Yes, Doctor," said the female, observing the Vulcan physician's work.

The doctor activated a switch, and a gentle electrical surge reached out from the electrodes placed at the patient's temples, to stimulate a higher level of electrical activity within the patient's brain, and entrain a brain wave pattern associated with conscious thought. Awareness growing now, and confusion along with it.

"We increase the current slowly," said the doctor, and the nurse nodded her understanding.

Fingers twitching unconsciously now, then minutes later clenching consciously. Eyes opening slowly, confusion clouding them.

"Trip," said the patient in Vulcan, her voice hoarse from disuse, eyes darting past the doctor, and past the nurse. "Where is Trip? I want to speak to Trip."

The nurse looked briefly to the doctor, but the physician was focused solely on the patient.

"I do not know anyone named Trip," said the doctor.

"Commander Tucker," said the patient, looking directly at the doctor now.

"I am sorry, I do not know a Commander Tucker," said the doctor. "You must calm yourself now."

"Than I want to speak to Dr. Phlox."

"There is no one named Phlox here," said the doctor. "You must relax now. All will become clear to you soon."

"Where am I?" said the patient, trying to raise herself off the bed.

"Rest now," said the doctor, gently restraining the patient, then raising a hypospray to the patient's neck.

"What happened to me?" said the patient, eyes agitated now.

The doctor administered the sedative in the hypospray, and the patient lost consciousness almost immediately.

"Why did you sedate the patient, doctor?" said the nurse. "Were we not trying to bring her to consciousness?"

"She was both disoriented and agitated on coming out of the coma, but she sleeps normally now," said the doctor. "She will be more clear minded when she wakes."

"I see. How long until she wakes, Doctor?"

"Ten, twelve hours," said the doctor. "Reach out to the names on her contact list. I want someone she knows here when she wakes."

"Yes, doctor," said the nurse.


	2. Chapter 2

/Psionic: adjective: relating to or denoting the practical use of psychic powers./

 **.**

— **Chapter 02—**

Awareness expanding once again, but unfolding now in a more orderly manner, and this time more complete in scope. Species, sex, name, all these were known quantities now as the patient opened her eyes to find a familiar figure seated to the left of her bed. The Vulcan had been reading something on a PADD, but raised his eyes when he felt the patient stir.

"T'Pol!" said Soval, openly pleased to see his former protege wake.

"Ambassador," said T'Pol, her voice still hoarse, and the effort it took for her to speak made Soval reach for the steaming cup of tea next to him.

"Here," said Soval, coming closer, and holding the cup gently to T'Pol's lips. "Take a sip. The nurse just brought it for me, so it is hot. Be careful."

T'Pol did as instructed, made an appreciative noise, then took note for the first time of gravity's pull, and said, "Thank you, Soval. I take it that I am back on Vulcan."

Soval nodded, and said, "Yes. You are on Vulcan, T'Pol. Your mother will be here shortly. She stepped out to purchase some scientific periodicals for when you wake."

T'Pol looked around the large, well lit, attractively furnished room which looked nothing like a hospital room, her eyes momentarily drawn to a lovely ceramic vase, filled by an assortment of Earth's flowers arranged in a sparse but beautiful display, which was decidedly not Vulcan.

Soval noticed the direction of T'Pol's gaze and said, "I am told that Admiral Ryan checks up on your health once a week, speaking to your doctors, discussing your treatment. His secretary, a charming Ms. Kojima, makes a hobby of flower arranging, and the admiral brings flowers each time he comes, for the Humans have a greenhouse at their embassy."

"I will convey my gratitude to the Admiral, next time I see him," said T'Pol.

"You may," said Soval, "but I do not think that is necessary, T'Pol. They consider taking care of you their duty. They have covered your medical bills and picked up the tab for this room. In addition I understand they have placed a sum of money in escrow for you with a Vulcan bank, in the event that you wake from your coma. Your mother will have the details of that matter."

"What happened to me, Soval? What am I doing here?"

"What is the last thing your remember, T'Pol?"

"Rajiin," said T'Pol, coughing, then wetting her throat as Soval raised the cup to her lips once more. "An alien which Captain Archer brought aboard the Enterprise in hopes of getting some information on the Xindi. She came into my quarters and did something to me. Her touch inflamed my emotions even as it stripped me of control, then overpowered me. I blacked out. I remember nothing after that. I take it that I was in bad shape if Captain Archer brought me home for medical treatment. Is the Enterprise still in orbit? If so, I must return to my post."

"T'Pol," said Soval, "the attack you described by this Rajiin, it took place some time ago. You have been in a coma for the past three years."

T'Pol was rocked momentarily by Soval's words, then said, "Earth? The Xindi? Did the Enterprise succeed in its mission to destroy the Xindi weapon?"

"Yes, and no, T'Pol," said Soval. "We can discuss it later, but you are exhausted now. You need rest."

T'Pol's cheeks colored, and she said, "I have been in a coma for three years, Soval. I have rested long enough. Tell me."

Soval placed the PADD he had been reading when T'Pol woke in her hands, and said, "What we know is here for you to read at your leisure, T'Pol, but I will give you an overview. The Enterprise succeeded against all odds and the Xindi weapon was destroyed. Just as impressive, Captain Archer concluded a peace treaty with three of the Xindi species."

"But not the Xindi Reptilians, or Insectoids, I take it," said T'Pol.

"No, T'Pol. Not them," said Soval. "They would have no part of a peace treaty with the Humans, and they broke with the other Xindi races over the issue, and departed for parts unknown."

"What then, Soval?"

"The alien female, Rajiin," said Soval, "had taken a number of physical scans of the Humans during her time aboard the Enterprise, T'Pol. Those scans were used to create a biological weapon, which the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids deployed against the Humans, a year after their planet cracking weapon was destroyed."

"How do we know it was the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids who deployed such a weapon, Soval?" said T'Pol. "It might have been someone else, unlikely as that might be."

Soval shook his head, and said, "The Xindi Reptilians sadistically taunted the Humans as they began dying. There is no doubt of the cause of this infection, T'Pol."

"I see," said T'Pol.

Soval paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

"A bio-weapon, you say, Soval," said T'Pol, indicating that the ambassador should continue.

"Yes, T'Pol. I can guess what the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids scientists intended," said Soval, "but I am certain that they did not envision, or plan, for what happened next. They made a mistake, and that mistake may well cost them everything before all is said and done, the way things are currently unfolding."

T'Pol felt a sense of foreboding as Soval continued speaking, but did not interrupt him.

"The human DNA contains around 20,000 functional genes, T'Pol, that is, the stretches of DNA that encode proteins. But these genes account for only about 1.2 percent of the total genome. The other 98.8 percent is known as non-coding DNA, often called junk DNA. The Xindi scientists saw something in this non-coding DNA which interested them, for the weapon they created targeted a portion of this 'junk' DNA, and did so quite effectively, but there were some major unintended consequences as well."

T'Pol nodded, encouraging Soval to keep going.

"No one knows precisely how the Xindi dispersed their bio-weapon so effectively, but the Humans on Earth, the cities on the Moon and Mars, as well as the huge colony on Jupiter's moon Europa, and the large colonies on Saturn's moons, Titan and Enceladus, they were all affected, T'Pol."

"The aged succumbed first, to madness and then a painfully protracted death, often terminated by suicide in those driven to a state of mental chaos so malignant that apparently death seemed preferable. The mortality rate for this demographic was something like ninety-eight percent. The few survivors were driven irretrievably mad, and their lives were medically terminated, for there was no one to care for them.

"The young were affected next, though the madness progressed relatively quickly among them and often left death in its wake. The mortality rate among that demographic stood at some sixty-four percent.

"The adults were last, and the mortality rate was lowest here, at some fifty-two percent," said Soval. "The madness progressed slowest here, though death was just as inevitable for those susceptible to the effects of the bio-weapon, and though they resisted the onset of the madness the longest, they were also the most destructive, aiming the destructive impulse which came with the madness at others, in violent murderous sprees. By the end of it, of some twenty-two billion Humans spread throughout Earth, Mars and the moon colonies, roughly seven billion survived that first Madness Season."

T'Pol was white faced now from the shock of it all, and she said, "Madness Season?"

"It is what the Humans named the effect of the bio-weapon," said Soval. "The three allied species of Xindi were disgusted by the actions of the Reptilians and Insectoids, and millions of these allied Xindi races came to Earth to aid the Humans, no doubt driven by guilt over their part in this whole nasty event. As you can imagine, the logistics of disposing of all those corpses was an almost impossible task, made viable only through the use of heavy machinery and the aid of the Xindi. Huge pit graves were dug to house tens of thousands of Human bodies to a pit, and a seemingly endless number of these pits had to be dug, or else the bodies were burned in industrial furnaces, and the fires burned day and night T'Pol, for the first eighteen months. Our own people worked to care for the living as best as we could, and we surely did some good with our efforts."

T'Pol was shaken by the changes that had taken place while she had hovered limbo for three years.

"Anyway," said Soval, "the Aquatics tried to broker a peace between Humanity and the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids, although I do not believe the Humans would have accepted such a peace treaty after the death of some fifteen billion people. In any case, the Aquatics broadcast their offer to mediate out in the open on all channels, on all vectors, but they received no answer to their offer, only a message for the Xindi Aquatics, Primates and Arboreals."

"What message, Soval?"

"You're next, traitors. Upon hearing that, the Aquatics washed their hands, fins, flippers, whatever, of the Reptilians and Insectoids," said Soval, "It was clear to the rest of the Xindi races that the Reptilians and the Insectoids were beyond reason."

"You said there were unintended consequences, Soval," said T'Pol, for she could hear no more of the horrors.

"Indeed," said Soval. "Although the Xindi bio-weapon left madness and death in its wake among the majority of Humans, the genetic alterations which brought on the madness, also unintentionally bestowed gifts upon the survivors. We have not been able to determine the cause of this phenomenon yet, and the Humans are understandably too busy to give the matter the proper attention at this time, but it is enough to know that the weak perished, while the strong willed and strong minded survived the Madness Season and grew into psionic power in the process, for the genetic changes unlocked the powers of the mind, and seemingly jump started Human evolution far ahead of its expected timetable. Essentially, Homo Sapiens became Homo Novus, or the New Man, after that first Madness Season."

"The Humans have a term for something like this, referring to unintended effects," said T'Pol. "They call it Murphy's Law."

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," said Soval. "I am familiar with that philosophical maxim, T'Pol."

"And so, Soval… What type of psionic powers were unlocked from the Human genetic code?" said T'Pol. "How wide spread are they among the survivors?"

"I can not yet speak with any authority of the extent of their psionic talents, T'Pol, or their similarity with our own talents," said Soval, "save for Telepathy. I can assure you, they have at least that talent."

T'Pol looked at Soval with interest, for he'd said that oddly, and she then considered his words. All Vulcans had some level of psionic power. Although such talents were frowned upon these days by the High Command, for it was the nature of political power to distrust other powers it could not control, Vulcan history and literature were rich in references to psionic talents, eagerly honed to their utmost and used as weapons in the constant drive for power that was the norm on Old Vulcan. Surak's coming had put an end to those days, for a passion fueled psionic arms race was illogical, yet still, the powers persisted to this day, if in a milder form.

The five basic divisions of Vulcan psionic power were the talents of Clairsentience, Empathy, Focus, Telepathy and Telekinesis, and these talents were further sub-divided into a number of disciplines. Of these five talents, the last, Telekinesis, was practically nonexistent among the Vulcan populace at large, though it was rumored to still exist among the powerful mind-priests of secluded Vulcan monasteries.

T'Pol's main talent lay in Empathy, for she was largely a receptive empath, and it was one of the reasons, besides the Vulcan cultural norms, that she rarely touched others, for she would pick up their emotions quite easily, and that was why she'd avoided shaking Commander Tucker's proffered hand on their initial meeting, despite knowing that the Human would consider it rude, but she was already aggravated by Archer's conduct towards her, and did not wish to pick up more mistrust and dislike from the commander through physical contact with the man, via her empathy.

Days later, when she'd run her hands across his body while in the Decon chamber, she couldn't get enough of the man. His emotions were so rich, so wild, so alluring, that it took him walking away from her to remove her hands from his body. She was disturbed by the encounter for weeks after, for she'd found his emotions seductive, and dangerous, and more so, she could not stop examining the commander's feelings for her: she knew after that first time in the Decon chamber, that he'd been instantly and strongly drawn to her on first sight, in a heady mix of appreciation for her beauty, a desire to taste her lips, and an unabashed lust that urged him to mate with her. Despite the scandalous nature of it all, rather than being repulsed by such raw emotions coming from the man she'd just recently met, T'Pol was drawn to those emotions and the man himself, beyond all reason, and despite all logic.

Her other talent was in Telepathy, though it was a weak talent, once again, mostly receptive, for T'Pol had been largely introverted during her adolescence, when her psionic talents had taken root, and her talents followed her inclinations.

"Where was I," said Soval. "Oh, yes. Though we did our best to be of service during this time, when the Human deaths climbed into the billions and all round us was nothing but madness and despair, it was all too much for us, T'Pol. We left Earth, lest we be overcome by the grief and the pain of the survivors and dragged down into madness with the Humans, though our navy still played a role by patrolling the Sol system, and presumably serving as a deterrent to any more incursions upon the system by Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids."

T'Pol nodded, understanding. The Madness Season and its effects would have been an ugliness which the now logical Vulcan mind would be ill suited to face, though ironically, the Vulcan mindset of the ancient past would have dealt with the situation with much less friction, for her people had gloried in battle and bloodshed in those days, and death, despair and an abundance of corpses were just part and parcel of that life.

"Surprisingly, the Humans hold us no ill will over our departure," said Soval. "The telepaths among them would have understood our reason for leaving, and likely shared it with the rest of humanity. If there are empaths among them as well, I am certain they perceived our reasons on an emotional level, and they would have spoken on our behalf as well. I am speculating here, of course, but I can see no other reasons to explain the matter otherwise."

"So, there are no reports as to how their psionic talents compare to ours?" said T'Pol.

"Nothing definitive, T'Pol. Mostly second hand stories of uncertain providence, but notably, all of the initial reports agree that Human psionic abilities are not dependent on touch, so we might take that as a fact, for now," said Soval, and T'Pol found that intriguing.

The vast majority of Vulcans were natural touch-psychics, with only the adepts in the monasteries, a few of the black ops operatives in the V'Shar, and a relatively small number of the population with power levels high enough to transcend the requirement for touch in order to use their abilities at relatively short distances, though at a cost of a great deal of focus, and concentration. The only consistent exception to the requirement for touch amongst the majority of Vulcans existed among Bonded couples, but this was understandable, for Bonded couples were essentially one mind, one soul.

"I am surprised our people took so little interest in something as unique as the psychic awakening of an entire species, to some degree or other, in the blink of an eye, speaking in an evolutionary sense," said T'Pol.

"Well, the second Madness Season swept through the survivors a year after the first, T'Pol, as the disease mutated in one of the moon colonies, and made its way back towards the center," said Soval, "so we all feared the worst, but the death toll was much lower now, some thirty or forty million, spread out over all the outposts and colonies, as well as Earth, as those most susceptible to the weapon had already been killed by the first wave of infection. In any case, we returned to Earth and the colonies recently in order to help them rebuild, and since then there have been reports from our people of wild talents and disciplines among them for which we have no counterpart among our people, but I suspect that we will learn everything of importance in due time, and we must wait until then to make sense of it all. To do otherwise would be to indulge in nothing more than rank speculation."

"True," said T'Pol. "When will I be discharged from here? I must contact the Enterprise."

"T'Pol, the Enterprise was extensively damaged in the Delphic Expanse," said Soval. "I saw it when it returned to Earth. It looked like a burned out shell, and half the crew died in the Expanse. I was quite relieved to find you still alive on board the Enterprise, even if in a coma."

T'Pol's heart beat like a drum on hearing that last fact, and she said, "Is there a list of survivors?"

"I am not aware of one, T'Pol," said Soval, "but I am certain that StarFleet will have information."

"Yes," said T'Pol. "Continue, please, Soval."

"Accordingly," said Soval, "the Enterprise was decommissioned, and a new vanadium-steel keel was laid out immediately and a new tritanium alloy frame built around it, made of the metal salvaged, melted and forged anew from the former Enterprise. This ship was upgraded with new technologies the Enterprise had come across in the Delphic Expanse. I've seen the list of tech upgrades in this new Enterprise, and it is quite extensive, but I can name a few. The Xindi subspace vortex drives, Andorian anti-matter injectors which Commander Tucker received from Commander Shran, isomagnetic collectors which they supposedly learned of from an alternate version of the Enterprise in another time line. You will love this, T'Pol. Supposedly, an aged version of you assisted the crew of the Enterprise with some crucial information, while your son helped them accomplish their mission."

"My son?" said T'Pol, intrigued.

She knew that Captain Archer would not make up such things, but still… who fathered her son? She'd broken off her engagement with Koss for reasons most Vulcans would consider indefensible, so finding herself another mate would not be a trivial matter.

"Yes, supposedly you and Commander Tucker had a son in an alternate timeline," said Soval, visibly scoffing at the entire story, "who then returned with the aged T'Pol in order to rescue the Enterprise from the Xindi, or something similar."

T'Pol's heart raced at the thought of such a possibility, unlikely as it seemed. She was a graduate of the Vulcan Science Academy, after all, and the idea was fascinating, from scientific point of view.

"The Vulcan Science Academy has determined that time travel is impossible," said T'Pol half-heartedly, and Soval nodded.

"I am aware of that, T'Pol, yet the crew of the Enterprise stands by those claims," said Soval. "In any case, this new ship was named the Enterprise in order to honor the old ship, and though it looks much the same I am told, it packs a much harder punch now. In any case, I will forward a list of the technology that StarFleet has acquired in the Expanse to your PADD. As a scientist you will find it fascinating. Vissian technology, shields from a Kantare ship, Eska night vision goggles, Orion slave control devices to secure prisoners, organic circuitry from a ship supposedly from the future piloted by a mixed species pilot, Klingon weapons specs from a Klingon cruiser trapped in a gas giant, the wreck of a Xindi ship which served as a hatchery, and so on, and so on. The list is long, and though we've tried to talk StarFleet out of allowing the spread of these technologies into the larger fleet, our advice counted for little, given that you were the only Vulcan who aided them in that mission."

"Why does the High Command object to StarFleet making use of these new technologies, Soval?"

"They view it in the same light as giving a live phaser to a child, T'Pol," said Soval, "especially given the added factor of the Madness Season. If there should be more such seasons, and the Humans go completely insane, they would become a plague of such proportions that they would make the Klingons seem like wise and measured statesmen. You should see their ships now, T'Pol. With all the enhancements they're building into them now, these smaller Human ships can now go toe to toe with anyone, and the fact that much of their production line was automated long before the Madness Season struck means that these new models will roll out with impressive haste."

"Well, that is a problem the High Command must tackle another day, Soval," said T'Pol, "given that they can do nothing to stop it. As for me, I would return to duty."

"That is ridiculous, T'Pol," said Soval. "You just roused yourself after a three year coma! I will not hear of it! I will petition the High Command to reinstate your commission, and do my best to get you reassigned back to our embassy on Earth if you like, serving once more with me. You were right to assist the Humans in the Delphic Expanse, T'Pol, even the High Command sees that now, but you have done more than enough for StarFleet."

"I have my duty as I see it, Soval, and I do not wish to rejoin the High Command."

Soval looked at T'Pol, his face inscrutable, and said, "May we speak truth, T'Pol?"

"Always, Soval," said T'Pol, though she was wary, for Soval was wise, and saw deeply into most matters.

"I am certain that you are driven to serve StarFleet by a sense of loyalty, but I suspect that there is also a much more personal reason which drives you, T'Pol."

"I am not certain that I understand your meaning, Soval," said T'Pol, heart racing.

"Are you aware that I am a functional telepath, T'Pol?"

The term functional designated a psion who could use his powers with 100% reliability. The vast majority of Vulcans could not make that claim where their psychic talents were concerned. Of her own talents, T'Pol rated a 79% success rate in Empathy with a random subject, a 91% success rate with someone familiar to her, and a 99.1% success rate with someone dear to her. With Telepathy, a much weaker talent for her, she rated a 9% success rate with a random subject, a 23% success rate with a familiar subject, and a 47% success rate with a subject dear to her, and her power ratings were 4.6 for Empathy and 1.9 for Telepathy.

T'Pol nodded in answer to Soval's question, and said, "Yes, Soval. I read your file while I was serving in the V'Shar. If I remember correctly, your potential psi rating in telepathy was 5.3 - your functional telepathy rating at the time was 5.1. You have also some talent in Clairsentience and Focus, but those ratings are no better than average."

The PSI scale went from 0 to 10, and it was a logarithmic scale rather than a linear scale, so even seemingly small differences in a psion's score actually represented a large variance in power. The typical Human rated a .4 on the psi scale, with their occasional psychic insights, while a talented Human psion such as the remote viewers trained and used by black ops government agencies came in at 1.2 to 1.6, while the average Vulcan started at .9 and went up to 2.5, or so. The Vulcan mind-priests and the specially selected and trained black ops psions of the V'Shar and other similar, and often even more secretive agencies, could sometimes reach the high 6 range. In any case, Soval's 5.1 rating was quite impressive, and generally any Vulcan with a rating of 4.8+ in a talent was functional in that talent.

"Correct on all fronts, T'Pol," said Soval. "Now, do you remember earlier in our conversation, when I said that I was quite certain that Humans have at least Telepathy now?"

"Yes," said T'Pol, curious now over where this was heading.

"I know that is a fact, because I mind shared with a Human telepath," said Soval. "I thought myself quite clever, and lightly brushed against the Human in question as if by accident, but it did not go as I expected."

T'Pol nodded her understanding. A telepath of Soval's power could indeed make contact with another's mind with the lightest physical touch, bypassing the need to touch the psi points on the subject's face, or reciting the usual mantra, which was just a mechanism to focus weaker minds on the task at hand. In addition, once a link was established, he would be able to maintain a telepathic link, without remaining in physical contact, so long as his target remained physically close by.

"Why did you do that, Soval?" said T'Pol, fully aware of how the High Command felt about mind melds, or really anything dealing with psionic powers. "You know the High Command would not approve of your actions."

"I am surprised to find you so solicitous of the High Command's opinions, T'Pol, given your actions of late. In any case, I acted impulsively, T'Pol, thinking that determining the relative degree of sanity left in a Human going through the throes of the Madness Season was an important bit of knowledge," said Soval.

"Explain," said T'Pol.

"The first Madness Season was sweeping Earth and the colonies at the time, and the Humans serving in StarFleet were naturally affected along with the rest," said Soval. "Accordingly, there were discussions among the Admiralty on how best to maintain battle readiness in the fleet, for StarFleet feared that the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids would launch a physical attack upon Earth at the time. But the sickness was sweeping through StarFleet's ranks as well, though most continued to work until they succumbed to the madness, and began fighting for their lives against the illness."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "Go on."

"The Admirals conducted many consultations with their cadre of officers at StarFleet HQ, and I was a frequent visitor there. On one of these occasions, I came across a familiar figure from the Enterprise in one of the waiting rooms."

"Captain Archer?"

"No," said Soval. "The entire crew of the Enterprise was promoted for successfully completing their mission, and Archer had been promoted to Admiral by then, but at the time he was affected by the madness, and struggling to retain his sanity and his life, at the time."

T'Pol tensed, and said, "Did he survive?"

"Yes, T'Pol."

"Who was it than, Soval?" said T'Pol, curiously, knowing it would be one of the officers, if that Human was being consulted by the Admiralty. "Which crew member of the Enterprise?"

"It was Captain Tucker, T'Pol," said Soval, and T'Pol's breath quickened. "I am certain that you remember him, though he was a commander during the time you both served aboard the Enterprise."

"Interesting," said T'Pol, pretending a sense of detachment she did not feel.

"Indeed, T'Pol," said Soval, looking shrewdly at T'Pol. "Would you like to sample what I felt when I linked with the captain's mind? I know the High Command would not approve of the act, but as you have already resigned from their service, I imagine their disapproval would not concern you."

T'Pol felt Soval's scrutiny, but his offer was too tempting to pass up, for telepathic insights would differ in nature from emphatic insights, but both were valuable. She nodded, her breath quickening.

Soval watched T'Pol struggle with herself and throw caution to the winds for the sake of learning something of Captain Tucker, and his suspicions were confirmed, for he had always sensed that T'Pol was drawn to the Human engineer. He touched T'Pol's wrist with his left hand, and the world dropped away in an instant for them both, as they relived Soval's experience.

T'Pol's mind was instantly assaulted by a malevolent rage, so potent, so wild, that it easily matched uncontrolled Vulcan passions. Captain Tucker turned his head to face her, his eyes filled with the cold fury and cruel arrogance of a BlackSand Hawk. T'Pol was petrified by the man's gaze, but Soval had retained his wits about him. Protective walls were instantly raised in Soval's psyche, and T'Pol, weak telepath though she was, still sensed the superlative strength of Soval's defenses, yet they crumbled after several blows by Captain Tucker that left Soval's psyche throughly shaken by the violence, and by the power. T'Pol felt Soval's distress as the Vulcan struggled to raise his shields again quickly, only to have them brushed aside contemptuously, and she then felt the captain's anger at Soval like a metal spike being driven through her skull and into her mind, and T'Pol screamed at the unbelievable pain, as Captain Tucker cruelly punished Soval for the Vulcan's attempt to probe his mental state. She was not even aware that she had screamed when Captain Tucker had lashed out at Soval, but several nurses came running into T'Pol's room after hearing T'Pol's scream, and looked at T'Pol with uncertainty.

"She just woke from a nightmare," said Soval, and T'Pol nodded her agreement, and all but one of the nurses returned to their stations.

"Would you like a tranquilizer?" said the nurse.

"No," said T'Pol, still breathing heavily. "I will be all right. Thank you."

The nurse nodded, and left.

Soval gave a wan smile, and said, "It was a foolish thing to do, I know, T'Pol."

T'Pol, truly shaken, said, "And I had always considered you a font of wisdom, Soval."

"You were clearly mistaken," said Soval, with a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

"I see that now, Ambassador," said T'Pol, making small talk in order to gain the time needed to compose herself: she breathed in and out deeply.

T'Pol knew that by the time a psionic talent developed, usually at puberty, the being in question had spent a number of years experiencing the world strictly through the physical senses, and so there was a tendency to interpret psionic input as physical sensations, and project psionic output as physical sensations, but even by those standards, Captain Tucker's contact with Soval had been so physically explicit, so seemingly real, that it was quite remarkable.

"Why did Captain Tucker's telepathic contact feel so strongly physical?" said T'Pol. "Is it because of his species?"

"I do not believe his species is relevant here, T'Pol. It is just a matter of his psionic strength. Due to your relatively weak telepathic power levels, your telepathic touch is like an invitation to commune, while Captain Tucker's telepathic touch is a command, unless you have the power to resist that command. I did not."

T'Pol was troubled by Soval's words, and the mental image of a BlackSand Hawk blended with Captain Tucker once again, the cold, arrogant look sending chills down her spine. She wondered now if any part of the man she had known still existed, or if he was gone forever, stolen from her by the Madness Season.

"Was the power discrepancy between you and Captain Tucker as wide as it seemed?" said T'Pol finally, recalling the helplessness she felt when Soval's psyche was handled with such sureness, and such casual brutality, by Captain Tucker.

"Yes," said Soval. "I am fortunate to be alive, T'Pol. Now that you have sampled the madness in their minds, you begin to understand how things have changed, no?"

"Perhaps not as much as you might think, Soval."

"What do you mean, T'Pol?"

"Captain Tucker clearly knew what you were doing," said T'Pol, "what you were attempting to do anyway, the instant you linked your mind to his."

"That is indisputable, T'Pol," said Soval, recalling the dread sensation he'd felt when he'd come to the same realization, looking into Captain Tucker's cold, pitiless, eyes. "What is your point?"

"He controlled his urge to kill you, Soval," said T'Pol. "I felt his rage, and I wonder that he had the strength to restrain himself. The madness tried him, but it did not conquer Captain Tucker."

"We can not say that, T'Pol," said Soval, sensibly. "I was ordered to return to Vulcan soon after, and I lost track of Captain Tucker. He may have succumbed to the madness later during that first season, or perhaps a year later during the second Madness Season."

"He has not, Soval."

"How do you know, T'Pol?"

T'Pol said nothing, for Soval would dismiss her 'hunch' as foolishness picked up from her time spent with Humans.

"Since you will not answer me," said Soval, "we should resume our meld. You were startled and broke the mind meld before I finished showing you all I meant to show you."

"If you believe it necessary," said T'Pol, and reached out for Soval's touch once more, though her hand trembled.

The world vanished once more for T'Pol, and Soval had mercifully moved past the rough treatment he'd taken from Captain Tucker's psyche, to now allow T'Pol to feel Captain Tucker's thoughts moving through her mind, well Soval's mind, which they both experienced in their own manner. Soval had interpreted that mental invasion abstractly, as thousands of lines of telepathic power moving through his mind, which was not the same as moving through his brain. These lines moved swiftly on a meandering path, searching for a particular topic, and then moving on, in search of more and more data on that topic. There was no pain for Soval this time, but he was still uneasy, for he could not block this invasion of his being. Captain Tucker's conduct would have been considered a crime by most Vulcans, save for the fact that it had been Soval himself who had begun it all, by trying to mind meld with Captain Tucker without the man's permission.

T'Pol, with a different perspective on Captain Tucker, felt the invasion of Soval's mind as if it was an invasion of her own mind, yet she had no desire to resist, nor could she muster the will power to do so. It was intimidating, this movement of Captain Tucker through her psyche, for she felt what Soval felt, but still, a shudder of pleasure moved through T'Pol, incongruous as that might be given the situation at hand, for it was a physical reaction to the commander's intent, which was clear to her immediately.

Soval felt the captain's purpose as well, felt that same act as a relentless probe of every single fact which touched upon T'Pol. The entire process took a fraction of a second, then Captain Tucker released Soval's psyche, and walked away, still furious with the Vulcan. T'Pol felt Soval's efforts to control emotion for the Vulcan was shaken, and then the ambassador broke his link with T'Pol. He and T'Pol looked at each other now, only Vulcan discipline keeping them from seeming ill at ease with the other.

"You were the only thing Captain Tucker sought from my mind," said Soval finally, "and he was not to be denied. He began with the intent of learning if you had come out of your coma, then he expanded his probe out from there to every single interaction you and I have ever had, every single fact I knew about you, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded. Captain Tucker's purpose during his mind probe of Soval had been quite clear, and its intensity was disconcerting, and paradoxically, also gratifying.

"Why would Captain Tucker seek every artifact of you in my mind with such intensity, T'Pol?"

"I do not know, Soval," said Soval. "It is logical to assume that Captain Tucker was concerned for the welfare of a fellow crew mate."

Soval looked at T'Pol, clearly skeptical of her words. There was no need for the ambassador to say a thing.

"Well, I do not know if he still feels the same, but it is possible that Captain Tucker was slightly attracted to me three years ago, Soval."

"Slightly attracted to you," said Soval, his voice neutral. "Yes, one might say that, T'Pol, in the same manner that one might say that a black hole in space exerts a slight gravitational pull. And you are also drawn to him, T'Pol. We shared minds, so do not bother to deny it, but the man you knew is gone, even if he still lives. Whatever attracted you to the man in the first place, surely no longer exists. Listen and understand. The Madness Season changed everything, T'Pol."


	3. Chapter 3

— **Chapter 03—**

"No!" said T'Les. "I will not hear it, T'Pol!"

T'Pol had returned to her mother's house after being discharged from the hospital, had been recuperating there for the past five days, and had just informed her that she meant to return to service with StarFleet. This did not please T'Les.

"Whether you hear it, or not, I still have my duty, mother," said T'Pol.

"What duty, T'Pol?" said T'Les. "You are not a member of StarFleet, and yet you almost gave your life for the Enterprise in the Delphic Expanse."

"I have no regrets over that fact, mother."

"Can you think of me for once?" said T'Les. "You are my daughter, T'Pol, and I hope for more in your life than moving from one dangerous assignment to the next. When you were with the V'Shar it was bad enough, but at least I could justify it somewhat by telling myself that you were serving our people. But now?"

"I do not care to discuss the matter any longer, mother," said T'Pol. "I know I have done nothing but disappoint you my entire life, to hear you speak, but I am free to choose my own path."

"That is not fair, T'Pol," said T'Les. "I have always been proud of you, no matter what silliness you dream up in your head. I simply ask that you now choose to follow a less dangerous path in your career. I know that Soval hopes to see you follow in his footsteps as a diplomat, and I am certain that he would gladly aid you in such a career still, if you but ask. That is an honorable path, T'Pol. Why will you not consider it?"

"I have my reasons," said T'Pol, and then refused to discuss the issue any longer.

* * *

The day after her argument with T'Les, T'Pol stood before the Earth Embassy on Vulcan right as the doors opened at 09:00 hours, only to castigate herself for her not coming earlier, for a good number of more enterprising people had shown up at the embassy before her. The High Command had given the Humans a spacious ten story building, carved out of a rock outcropping, and the only sign that this cliff housed people were the large glazed windows scattered all over the surface of the rock face. On entering the embassy, T'Pol felt the temperature drop to seventy-two degrees or so, well within the comfort range of Humans, for the twenty foot thick rock walls kept the brutal Vulcan heat at bay even in the worst of summer time heat waves, with only a bit of assistance from the air conditioning unit which filtered out any floating microscopic debris, and removed the humidity generated by the staff and visitors from the air.

Stepping inside, T'Pol was about to take a place at the back of the line, when a passing StarFleet officer and his aide glanced at T'Pol, then quickly did a double take, and approached T'Pol.

"Excuse me. You are T'Pol?"

"Yes," said T'Pol.

The Human said, "I was certain of it, but I had not heard that you'd come out of your coma."

"I did so just recently," said T'Pol.

"It's an honor to meet you, T'Pol. I am Captain Evers, and this is my aide, Lt. Hoskins."

T'Pol nodded her head courteously. She had not met the man before the Madness Season, so she did not know how it had affected him, or his aide, Hoskins, but they both seemed like grim, hard men. Of course the first Madness Season had struck the Sol system only two years ago, with all its ugliness, so their hardness was understandable.

"We've all been concerned about you, and I would have thought the news of your recovery would have traveled quickly among StarFleet."

"Vulcan hospitals generally guard their patient's privacy quite closely, Captain," said T'Pol.

"Of course," said Evers. "I'm very glad to see your condition has improved. Why you are here, T'Pol? I ask because I am at your disposal, if I can be of assistance to you."

"That is considerate of you, Captain," said T'Pol, for the line of people waiting to be helped before her was quite long. "Perhaps you can direct me to the proper person, or office. I came to request a meeting with Admiral Ryan, at his convenience."

Evers looked at Hoskins, and the Lieutenant walked away from them. That was interesting to T'Pol. Either Evers had given a telepathic order, or Hoskins knew his boss well enough to anticipate his orders, and T'Pol was not sure which had just occurred. Evers and T'Pol made small talk for a few minutes longer, then both saw Admiral Ryan walking towards them, Hoskins in tow. Since admirals did not make a habit of receiving their visitors in the lobby, it was clear the man was pleased to see T'Pol.

Evers passed one of his cards to T'Pol, and said, "This matter was trivial, T'Pol, but if I may be of assistance to you in a more meaningful way, please don't hesitate to call on me."

"Thank you, Captain," said T'Pol.

She pocketed the card. It was a standard StarFleet electronic card, embedded with a small CPU and memory chip, and the captain's contact info would be constantly updated as he moved from place to place, assignment to assignment, and thus his contact info would always be current.

Evers saluted Admiral Ryan as the man reached them, and Ryan nodded at the captain.

"Carry on, Captain," said Ryan, and T'Pol expressed her gratitude to the man and his aide once more, before they left.

"It's good to see you like this, T'Pol," said Ryan.

"Thank you, Admiral," said T'Pol. "I was told that you have made it a habit to visit me this day each week, and I hoped to spare you the trouble of doing so today."

"It was no trouble at all," said Ryan. "Come. Let's go to my office, and talk."

Minutes later, the two were seated in the social part of Ryan's office, facing each other across a coffee table, from their respective places on one of two facing couches, and Ryan said, "Would you like some tea, T'Pol? Coffee?"

"No, thank you, Admiral."

"All right. How may be of service to you, T'Pol?" said Ryan, for he knew that Vulcans generally preferred to get to the heart of the matter, save for purely social situations.

"I came to express my gratitude to StarFleet and the Admiralty Commission, for seeing that I was medically cared for, while I was incapacitated," said T'Pol.

"I'll pass that along, T'Pol," said Ryan, "but there's no need for gratitude. Loyalty is everything in the fleet, T'Pol, and your loyalty to the fleet will not be forgotten. Your assistance in the Expanse was invaluable."

"Speaking of value," said T'Pol, and slid a PADD unit towards Ryan. "Although StarFleet was most generous, I would like to return the funds which StarFleet deposited on my behalf in the following escrow account."

"Absolutely not," said Ryan, and his tone was final. "You gave up your career with the High Command on our behalf. That is meant to help you start a new life. What else, T'Pol?"

"Admiral, I assur—," said T'Pol.

"Absolutely not, T'Pol. What next?"

T'Pol sighed, and said, "I hope that you might give me access to the information you have of the events which took place in the Sol system during the Madness Season, as well as information on the current state of things in StarFleet, Admiral."

"Dare I hope that this interest means you intend to join StarFleet, T'Pol?"

"I was considering offering my services as a consultant, as before. Is actually joining StarFleet an option, Admiral?"

"We would be thrilled to have you, T'Pol!"

"In that case I shall consider it seriously, Admiral."

"That makes my day, T'Pol," said Ryan. "Information. Sure, whatever you need. Anything else, T'Pol?"

"That will do for now, Admiral," said T'Pol.

"Done," said Ryan, and ten minutes later T'Pol found herself in a nearby office, with full access to StarFleet's intelligence and readiness reports generated from the start of the Madness Season, up to now, in addition to documentation, both hard copy and video that was generated by a multitude of sources during the crisis.

The video feed was especially shocking to T'Pol. It was just as Soval had said, but it was one thing to hear something, another to see it played out on a video monitor: hundreds of large Xindi Aquatic shuttles delivering hundreds of corpses each, using their tractor beams to haul their grisly payloads, thousands of bulldozers moving among and atop mountains of corpses of every age, race, sex, pushing them rudely into crude pits, seemingly intent on burying every trace that they had ever existed.

Closeup video revealed endless views of Humans and Vulcans with hollow faces and dead eyes trying to blot out the horror by denying it, Xindi Primates and Arboreals too ashamed to raise their eyes to face the Humans working alongside them, and T'Pol could only imagine the stench, and the despair of having to deal with all this, fully aware that you'd have to wake and do it all again, and again, and again, every day, for months, or years. She had to move on.

On and on she went, assimilating more and more of the data which Admiral Ryan had made available to her, first covering the technical advancements brought back from the Delphic Expanse, then surveying the new starships coming off the line with these advances built in, and so on, and so on, only to be interrupted briefly, some three hours later, when the admiral's secretary popped in to drop off a covered food tray, and a large go-cup.

"The Admiral thought you might like to lunch," said the secretary, and since she'd been posted on Vulcan for a while, added, " and no meat products, of course, T'Pol."

"Gratitude," said T'Pol.

She took a sip from the go-cup once Ryan's secretary left the room, and tasted a wonderful mango smoothie. She uncovered the food tray eagerly, for she had not eaten since the night before. The kitchen staff had included a salad, a bowl of mushroom, potato and chickpea soup in a clear vegetable broth, and a sandwich. After eating the soup and the salad, T'Pol turned her attention to the sandwich, and found it delightful: sliced avocado, alfalfa sprouts, sliced greenhouse tomatoes, tabouli mixed with shredded provolone cheese and baked briefly so that the melted cheese might bind the tabouli together into a thick pressed patty which was then drizzled with a creamy cilantro mayo, and all this layered between two thick griddle toasted slices of bread, freshly baked no more than an hour earlier. Intending to eat but a few bites of the tall sandwich which challenged her very ability to bite down on it even after pressing it down, T'Pol nevertheless finished it entirely, and then her cheeks colored briefly after she emitted a burp which must surely have shaken the embassy down to its foundations.

Lastly, the chef had included a small plate with two brownies, one stacked atop the other, a layer of caramel between the two brownies, and a layer of white chocolate drizzled on the topmost brownie, and that chocolate crowned with a generous amount of sweetened, shredded coconut strips. Overcome by guilt at the sheer amount of food she'd just consumed, T'Pol deliberately pushed it aside, only to find her mind and her glance inevitably drawn to the sweet treat, over and over again, distracting her from the business at hand.

Damn you, Trip! thought T'Pol, for she held Captain Tucker ultimately responsible for the development of her addiction to sugar, during her service aboard the Enterprise.

With a defeated sigh, T'Pol made short work of the brownies, and resumed her research on the technical upgrades, only to be startled when Ryan entered the room some seven hours later.

"Come to the cafeteria with me, T'Pol," said Ryan, "and keep me company, get some coffee if you need it, and you can come back here afterwards if you like. This place never closes."

Even though Vulcans were not affected by caffeine, the admiral's suggestion to take a break was logical, so ten minutes later they found themselves seated in a corner table of the embassy's cafeteria.

"You're not hungry?" said Ryan, for T'Pol had just gotten a bowl of plomeek soup and a cup of herbal tea.

"I am atoning for my lunch time gluttony," said T'Pol. "The food was quite tasty though. Thank you, Admiral."

"Glad you enjoyed it, T'Pol," said Ryan. "How's your research going?"

"It is quite illuminating, Admiral. It is heart breaking, what happened to your people," said T'Pol.

Ryan nodded thoughtfully, looked down at his food, and eventually took a bite of his four cheese lasagna.

"I did not find much information in your records of the psionic talents which developed in your people as a result of the Madness Season," said T'Pol.

"StarFleet's plate is kind of full with the Xindi threat at the moment," said Ryan, and T'Pol nodded. "I'm certain that someone, somewhere on Earth is documenting these talents. Eventually, StarFleet will take a thorough survey of these talents among our ranks, but as it stands now, those with appreciable levels of psionic power make use of their talents in the course of their duties aboard their ships."

T'Pol mulled that fact over a bit, then said, "May I ask a personal question, Admiral?"

"Yes, T'Pol."

"What type of psionic talent was activated in you?" said T'Pol.

"None, T'Pol," said Ryan. "I've been StarFleet's representative to Vulcan for five, almost six years now, so I was never infected. Naturally, every member of StarFleet wanted to return to Earth to help defend our solar system, but our orders were definitive. Stay put."

"I see," said T'Pol. "Will the temporary security clearance you have given me allow me to search StarFleet's personnel records?"

"Yes," said Ryan, looking shrewdly at T'Pol. "You want to locate the crew of the first Enterprise?"

"I would like to at least learn what happened to them," said T'Pol.

"I understand," said Ryan. "Last time the newly built Enterprise paid a call to Vulcan was some eight months ago. I went aboard to inspect the ship, and kill a bottle of Kentucky bourbon with Jon. As you may or may not know, Admiral Archer is commanding the ship, Commander Sato is his XO, and second in the chain of command."

T'Pol was surprised, and Ryan noticed the look, subtle though it was. He'd gotten plenty of practice reading the subtle emotional signals which even the Vulcans could not avoid but put out.

"Remember, you've lost out on three years, T'Pol. I'll grant you that Commander Sato's kind of young for the rank," said Ryan, "but the losses in StarFleet were horrendous. Anyway, the Madness Season, and the suffering that came afterwards was a hellish experience, and she was strong enough to survive it all. She's done well enough, judging by her readiness reports."

"And what of Lt. Reed?" said T'Pol, bringing her questions a bit closer to her mark. "I remember that he was quite capable."

"I don't know him personally, but I know he's made captain, T'Pol," said Ryan. "The crew of the Enterprise was disbanded once the Enterprise was scrapped, everyone going wherever they were needed, and given the real life experience everyone aboard the Enterprise brought back with them from the Delphic Expanse, most of them went on to other ships. Hell, you guys were the first Human spaceship out there, the most experienced crew in StarFleet."

T'Pol nodded. Everything Admiral Ryan said made sense.

"I think Jon is trying to rebuild the crew of the first Enterprise on the new ship, at least in part, thus Commander Sato, and Chief Engineer Dillard, who served as a Lieutenant under Commander Tucker during your tour. I know Archer also tried to secure a post for Commander Mayweather on the Enterprise, but Commander Mayweather is one of a select number of former pilots who are doing yeoman's work at StarFleet Academy, selecting and training a new crop of pilots for the fleet, and he turned down the offer. He's doing something worthwhile now, and still gets to fly more than half the time, so he's content at the Academy for now. Probably just as well. He never fully recovered from the madness, and he does well in an orderly environment, which is not something that can be guaranteed aboard an active starship, as you well know."

T'Pol had initially meant to also ask Admiral Ryan of Captain Tucker, but feared being told that the captain had died during one of the Madness Seasons, so she held her tongue. She would find out his fate in just a bit, and she would do so in private.

"Speaking of the fleet," said T'Pol, "I notice that it has grown qreatly in size during the past three years."

"Yes," said Ryan. "Given the bio-weapon attack, we've had many volunteers from among our people to defend Earth and deal with the Xindi, so we're selecting the cream of the crop. As far as starships go, most of the work of building ships is done in our automated factories, and they run 24/7, every day of the year. Our own engineers are working double shifts, and your people have donated thousands of engineers, as have the Tellarites, while the Andorians are helping us hunt down the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids."

"I had not heard any of that, Admiral," said T'Pol, "and the news is gratifying."

"I imagine that the High Command has reasoned that any species willing and able to kill some fifteen billion living beings is not to be trusted with weapons of mass destruction," said Ryan. "I mean, what happens if they take offense with the Vulcans next, or the Andorians, Tellarites…"

T'Pol nodded thoughtfully, and Ryan continued speaking.

"The Xindi Aquatics have helped greatly expand the orbital shipyards above Mars," said Ryan. "The yards are impressive in size even now, with docking bays for some two hundred ships, and growing all the time."

That made sense, thought T'Pol. Mars was heavily industrialized and rich in the exotic metals utilized in starship construction, so it was a natural fit. The metals were extracted, refined and manufactured into huge sections on Mars, then beamed to the orbital shipyards for final assembly.

"You should see the Xindi Aquatics work," said Ryan, wonder in his voice. "A single Aquatic controls a large water filled shuttle with six robotic arms on the exterior, with built in welding units, drills, saws, all kinds of machinery needed to work on a ship. One Aquatic shuttle does the work of a dozen Human or Vulcan engineers, and there are hundreds of them working on the shipyards."

"I would like to see that some day," said T'Pol. "I have always considered the Aquatic ships the most impressive of the Xindi starships."

"T'Pol," said Ryan. "I have to leave now. I'm have to attend a diplomatic event at the Tellarite Embassy, which is why I ate here first. You don't want to see some of the things they serve there. You're welcome to join me if you'd like. You'll have a chance to socialize with a number of diplomats and an assortment of socialites, if that sweetens the pot at all."

"It does not," said T'Pol, and if she were a Human she'd be laughing openly in Admiral Ryan's face for trying to rope her into such a dull evening. "I would like to go back and finish the rest of my research, if you do not object."

"No at all. I'll leave you then, T'Pol. Have fun with your research," said Ryan, and knowing her, she'd have a blast.

T'Pol nodded a farewell to Ryan, gulped down the last of her tea, and returned to her research.

* * *

The time had come for T'Pol to find out if Captain Tucker still lived, and she was certain that she would see his name on a list of deceased, or perhaps, almost as bad, read that he had gone insane, and never recovered, and that would devastate her, for Captain Tucker was her t'hy'la, her… friend. She typed in, TUCKER, CHARLES ANTHONY, in the search bar of StarFleet's personnel database, and pressed ENTER, with dread in her heart. To her relief, the captain's personnel record was quickly displayed, and his status was listed as ACTIVE. T'Pol read through the captain's record, learning a number of things she had not known of Captain Tucker, but when she searched for the location of his current assignment, that information was listed as RESTRICTED. She was relieved at least, for if he was on active duty, than Captain Tucker was fit.

After a moment's thought, she typed in REED, MALCOLM TREVOR, and pressed ENTER. Mister Reed had been close friends with then Commander Tucker, and it was possible they had kept in touch, or even better, were serving together, which meant that if she found one, she'd find the other. To her disappointment, information on his current assignment was also listed RESTRICTED.

Some problems would take time to solve, T'Pol decided, and went back to her study of the current events taking place in StarFleet, and the way that StarFleet had dispersed its ships in order to best defend the Sol system, while still freeing up a considerable number of ships to search for the Xindi, and it was an hour after dawn before she decided she'd adequately caught up on what she'd missed while in her coma. She left the office she'd been working in, to find Admiral Ryan speaking with his secretary, and both looked up at T'Pol with surprise.

"Don't tell me you've been at it all night!" said Ryan. "You've been working for some twenty-two hours since you first came here, yesterday morning."

"There was a lot of information to digest, Admiral," said T'Pol.

"You're a research monster, T'Pol," said Ryan.

"Yes," said T'Pol. " I thank you for allowing me access to the information I requested, Admiral."

"Of course," said Ryan. "What else may I do for you, T'Pol?"

"Nothing at the moment, sir. Thank you."

"All right," said Ryan, and handed T'Pol his card. "If you need anything, call."

"Yes, sir. Thanks again," said T'Pol.

"My shuttle will take you wherever you like," said Ryan. "Take the elevator to the roof. You'll recognize the StarFleet insignia painted on a blue shuttle, and the pilot, Anton, will be there by the time you make the roof."

"That is not necessary, Admiral," said T'Pol.

"Go, T'Pol," said Ryan, "or Anton will take off without you. The man's quite impatient."

"Yes, Admiral," said T'Pol. "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

— **Chapter 04—**

T'Pol had spent the entire day with T'Les, first puttering about the house in the morning hours, then shopping at an eclectic indoor mall which dealt solely in hand made goods during the midday period, and then finally, mother and daughter chose to go for a bite to eat at a local restaurant once the sun had dipped below the horizon. T'Les had raved of this place repeatedly, and rightly so, T'Pol decided as they dined on the patio, but her heart was not truly on the food. From her seat T'Pol could see the bright star of the Sol system directly ahead of them, at a 45 degree elevation, and it drew her eye relentlessly, as T'Pol contemplated her future, for her decision to go after what she truly wanted had been instinctually made shortly after she'd regained consciousness.

"You are leaving again," said T'Les, looking speculatively at T'Pol.

T'Pol sighed, and said, "I hope we will not argue over my decision tonight, mother. We have had a pleasant day together."

"I am tired of arguing, T'Pol," said T'Les. "I do it only because I want what is best for you."

"I know, mother."

"Will you at least tell me why, T'Pol?"

"It is my destiny," said T'Pol, with a hint of a smile.

"Vulcans don't believe in destiny, T'Pol," said T'Les, certain that T'Pol was being deliberately provocative. "You know that."

"I know," said T'Pol, "but I must go anyway. I have called Admiral Ryan's office for an appointment tomorrow morning. I mean to offer my services to StarFleet."

"There is much of your father in you," said T'Les. "If he were in your place he might do the same, whereas I would never even consider it."

Though T'Pol said nothing in response, the thought that something of her father lived inside her pleased T'Pol, for she'd missed him deeply since the very day he had disappeared in the line of duty.

* * *

The next morning, T'Pol showed up at Earth's Embassy once more and found Admiral Ryan's secretary, Ms. Kojima, waiting for her at the front desk, in order to guide T'Pol back to the admiral's office.

"Allow me to express my gratitude to you, Ms. Kojima," said T'Pol. "I understand that I have you to thank for the endless series of beautiful flower arrangements which graced my hospital room for three years."

Ms. Kojima gave a slight bow of her head as they walked, and she smiled, then said, "It was my pleasure, T'Pol. Unfortunately my skills are lacking, but you should have seen my sensei's work."

"I would like to see that someday, Ms. Kojima," said T'Pol. "But I have seen all of you work, and I find it lovely, as did my mother, T'Les, who took photographs of every display, in order to shamelessly duplicate them, I'm sure. Your work is restrained, minimalist, elegant… The flowers were alien, but the design elements were similar to our own Vulcan design ethos."

Ms. Kojima bowed her head once again, and smiled, and said, "Thank you, T'Pol."

They reached the admiral's office and Ms. Kojima walked through the door first, then stepped aside, holding the door open for T'Pol.

"Morning, T'Pol," said Ryan from behind his desk. "Tea?"

"No, thank you, Admiral," said T'Pol, and Ms. Kojima left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

"What can I do for you this fine morning, T'Pol?"

"I have come to state my intention to join StarFleet, Admiral," said T'Pol.

Ryan smiled, and said, "That's great, T'Pol! I can't tell you how much that pleases me!"

"Unfortunately, I have a small request to make, before I can agree to join StarFleet, Admiral. I apologize for being so presumptuous."

"Tell me about your request," said Ryan, determined not to fumble this chance to snag T'Pol for StarFleet.

"I wish to serve under Captain Tucker's command, sir," said T'Pol. "He was generous with his time, and worked hard to help me integrate into the Enterprise. I hope he can help me make the same adjustment into the fleet, after a three year absence."

"Done, T'Pol," said Ryan. "Let me contact StarFleet's HQ and put the wheels in motion. I'll contact you soon, T'Pol."

"So you do not anticipate any problems due to my request, Admiral?" said T'Pol.

"None at all," said Ryan. "We want you in the fleet, T'Pol. You know the way to the roof, and Anton is just dying for an excuse to fly."

"I am afraid that I must disappoint Anton this day, Admiral," said T'Pol. "My mother waits for me in the lobby, and we are headed for the Metropolitan Museum, just a block or so away from the embassy."

"Have fun," said Ryan, "and give your mother my respects."

* * *

It had taken a few days for Ryan to set things up, then another week's worth of travel, and now, ten days later, T'Pol found herself orbiting Earth in the Vulcan passenger liner, V'Laksa. Admiral Ryan had booked a 1st class cabin for T'Pol on the ship, quite close to Soval's own cabin, for the ambassador was also returning to Earth to resume his duties at the newly reopened Vulcan Embassy to Earth, and the two had spent a pleasant week in conversation, for although the ambassador was disappointed with T'Pol's choices, it was clear that she had chosen her course. The two went their separate ways when it came time to disembark, for the ambassador would be formally greeted by Earth's Ambassador on arrival, and T'Pol had no taste for diplomatic protocol. Accordingly, she said her farewells to Soval in private and took a later shuttle flight down in order to avoid the hoopla, only to be greeted, as she entered the spaceport by Admiral Archer, looking quite handsome in his all white admiral's uniform.

"It's great to see you, T'Pol," said Archer with a smile.

It was a sad smile, and it was a tired smile, but it was still a genuine smile, and it was one of the few she'd seen in Humans since waking from her coma. Despite the people around them, Archer hugged T'Pol briefly but tightly, and in that touch T'Pol felt with her Empath's receptivity Admiral Archer's genuine affection for her, and his joy at her recovery. She was touched by the sincerity of the man's emotions. They'd come a long way since their first meeting.

"I'm sorry, T'Pol," said Archer, remembering himself now. "I'm a monster. I shouldn't have done that. Vulcan custom. A matter of decency. Quite improper, and all that. I'm just so damned happy to see you again!"

"You are forgiven, Admiral. It is good to see you as well," said T'Pol. "I am surprised to see an admiral here. This is a Lieutenant's job, if that. I had expected to make my own way out of here."

"Nonsense, T'Pol," said Archer, reaching for T'Pol's bag, and though the Vulcan was physically stronger than Archer, she understood the courtesy, and nodded her thanks to the admiral. "HQ meant to send a car and a lieutenant, but I told them I had dibs. I was your commanding officer once, and you were one of my very best, T'Pol."

"You should stop praising me now, Admiral," said T'Pol, "or my swelling head will snap my delicate neck."

"Duly noted, T'Pol," said Archer, inwardly amused at T'Pol's weak joke. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Ten minutes later they pulled out of the spaceport's parking lot, and another fifteen minutes later they were blowing down the freeway in Archer's classic 2090 year model 911 Porsche, and T'Pol found the speed and the engine noise quite agreeable.

"This car handles like a dream, Admiral, and I love the throaty rasp of the engine," said T'Pol.

"Everything's electric these days, but I pay a premium just to keep this beauty on the road. Now, let's get a bite to eat here," said Jon. "The owner is a friend of mine, and he promised to take good care of you."

Minutes later Archer and T'Pol found themselves seated in a comfy booth, looking across the table from each other, when the owner, Jon's friend came by the table, and smiled at them both.

"T'Pol, this is my friend, Eduardo," said Jon. "Eduardo, this is T'Pol."

"Who doesn't know T'Pol?" said Eduardo to Archer, then he looked at T'Pol, and said, "It's a pleasure to have you here, T'Pol."

"Thank you," said T'Pol, taking note of the man's sad face and good nature.

"What are you in the mood for, T'Pol?" said Eduardo. "I'll make you anything."

"I can not say," said T'Pol. "I am unfamiliar with your cuisine. Perhaps you could surprise me?"

"I'm certain that I could," said Eduardo. "Leave it to me."

T'Pol started to speak, and Eduardo said, "No meat products. Jon already told me."

T'Pol nodded, and Eduardo turned to Archer.

"The usual, Jon?"

"Yes please, Eduardo."

Eduardo nodded, and left the table. Jon looked at T'Pol and smiled.

"Your friend Eduardo seems like a very nice man," said T'Pol.

"He is," said Jon. "He lost his wife and daughter in the first Madness Season, but his son David lived through it, thankfully. The three of us go out on my sailboat quite often when I'm on Earth, and Trip joins us if I can tear him away from the Engine Room. Eduardo likes deep sea fishing, and I'm teaching David how to sail a boat."

"How big of a sailboat?" said T'Pol.

"Forty-eight feet."

"So, you have a classic sports car, a sailboat, and brownstone in an exclusive neighborhood if Captain Tucker is telling the truth, Admiral. How do you do it?"

"I'm single, T'Pol. That, and the fact that my good friend Trip is a hell of an engineer, so when I come across a good buy, I snatch it up, Trip fixes it to a better than new condition, and we make out like bandits when we resell the item, though we keep what we buy more than half the time. Or I should say, we used to do this, before the Enterprise took us off planet for the majority of our time."

"Still, you two are quite the enterprising little beavers," said T'Pol. "I was not aware that Captain Tucker's mechanical skills and engineering knowledge were so useful outside the context of a starship."

"Oh, yeah," said Jon. "He can repair or restore anything. He rebuilt my car in two months. It took him eight months to restore my sailboat after I bought it, working weekends and the odd day here and there, and as thanks I bought him a forty-two foot power cruiser in need of some serious attention. He worked on it for two years, but it was a labor of love, and in its present condition it's worth ten times what I paid for it, though he'd never sell it."

"So Captain Tucker likes boats as well?"

"He loves them, T'Pol," said Jon, "though being an engineer he favors power boats. It's sad, but I understand this flaw in his personality in light of his career choices. Next time you two have leave on Earth, ask him to take you on a cruise to his special place. He lights up when he's out on a boat, even now."

"Special place, Admiral?" said T'Pol, intrigued, for in all the time she'd known Captain Tucker, the man had never mentioned having a special place.

"I won't ruin the surprise. Just ask him to take you there one day."

"I will," said T'Pol, hoping now for the pleasure of sharing such an interesting interlude with Captain Tucker.

The waitress approached the table and deposited two tall margaritas, a large basket of chips, three types of salsa, and a bowl of guacamole. T'Pol tasted the margarita, found the taste agreeable, and raised brow at Archer.

"Yes, it has alcohol," said Archer, "but it's a special occasion, T'Pol. It won't kill you."

"You misunderstand, Admiral," said T'Pol. "I like it."

"Good," said Archer, then drew T'Pol attention to their food. "Now, that's red salsa, that's green salsa, and that's a tomatillo salsa, which is green, but tastes different than the green salsa. The last bowl there is guacamole. Let's dig in. "

T'Pol followed Archer's instructions and found the wide variety of tastes, textures and spices quite delicious, and when they'd polished off their starters, the waitress brought them each a small bowl of pumpkin soup, scented with cumin, and spiced by red chillies. T'Pol could have stopped right there, but Eduardo soon after came to the table and laid their entrees before them.

"Beef fajitas, refried beans, Spanish rice, pico de gallo and fresh tortillas for the Admiral," said Eduardo, "and a chimichanga for T'Pol."

T'Pol was stunned. This chimichanga easily stood four inches high, and its circumference was impressive as well.

"What is this?" said T'Pol. "What am I looking at?"

"My first vegetarian chimichanga, for my first Vulcan guest," said Eduardo. "Spanish rice, cheese, black beans, corn, strips of grilled poblano pepper and portabella mushroom strips, mixed with my green enchilada sauce, all laid atop a big tortilla and then rolled into a giant burrito, which I then deep fried in peanut oil until golden and crispy. Topped with sour cream and pico de gallo, and served on a bed of shredded lettuce."

"It looks wonderful, Eduardo," said T'Pol, "but there is no way I can consume it all."

"No matter," said Eduardo. "Enjoy, T'Pol."

Both Archer and T'Pol thanked Eduardo, and then the waitress, for she'd brought them another round of margaritas, and without wasting a moment longer, Jon and T'Pol tucked into their food.

"The admirals are reluctant to grant your request and bring you and Trip together," said Archer after five minutes of solid eating, "so they'll try to talk you out of it, but they'll cave in, if you stick to your guns, T'Pol. They won't risk losing you."

"May I ask the reason for their reluctance?" said T'Pol, after gulping down a tasty bite of her chimichanga.

"They're just watching out for you, T'Pol, and they want to keep you out of trouble."

"What kind of trouble, Admiral?"

"What I'm about to tell you now is confidential," said Archer.

T'Pol nodded her agreement, and said, "I understand."

"Ok, so— wait, do you know that after our return from the Delphic Expanse Trip and Malcolm were promoted, and given command of their own ships?"

"I had heard of Commander Tucker's promotion to captain from Ambassador Soval," said T'Pol, "and surmised that it was highly probable that Lt. Reed had also been promoted to captain, due to his combat experience from the Delphic Expanse, and the circumstances which embroil StarFleet at the moment."

"Well you guessed correctly, T'Pol," said Archer. "He took command of the Invincible, one of our newer frigate designs, a DXT type. Two-thirds the size of the NX class, but they're fast, tough, hard hitting and with great endurance, what with all the technical improvements."

"I have seen the specs of your new ship types, Admiral," said T'Pol, "and I find the triangular arrangement of the three nacelles in your new DXT frigates aesthetically pleasing, as well as efficient. I am quite certain that Captain Reed is pleased with his new command."

"I've forgotten how thorough you are, T'Pol," said Archer. "Of course you know the specs of our new ships. Anyway, Malcolm got the Invincible, while Trip took command of the Columbia."

"What of Captain Hernandez?" said T'Pol softly, looking at Archer with concern, for he and Captain Hernandez had been quite close. "She commanded the Columbia."

"She succumbed to the madness during the first season, T'Pol," said Jon, then sighed heavily. "She climbed onto the ledge outside her hospital room one night, and then shortly afterwards jumped to her death."

"My condolences, Admiral," said T'Pol, and Jon shook his head, visibly miserable.

After a time, Archer began speaking again.

"Anyway, the Columbia is one of the old class of NX cruisers, but you know Trip. He's tireless and he's a perfectionist, and even more so, he understands the new tech better than almost every other engineer in StarFleet. He begged, borrowed and stole what he needed, and upgraded Columbia in record time, turned her into a beast. I love my Enterprise, T'Pol, but I'd put money on the Columbia in a fight, because none of my engineers can match him."

T'Pol nodded. The things which the Admiral had described fit Captain Tucker perfectly, and it was also quite likely that the man was burying his feeling with work, so T'Pol was not surprised that the Columbia should now be the fittest ship in the fleet.

"And so, Admiral?"

"And so, T'Pol," said Archer, "I'll tell you now that our two fine captains, Tucker and Reed, are in deep shit along with a respectable number of other StarFleet captains."

"Deep shit, you say, Admiral," said T'Pol. "How so?"

"As soon as the Madness Season struck and the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids began taunting us, scouts were dispatched in all vectors, Human, Vulcan, Xindi and Andorian, all in an effort to find trace of the Reptilians and Insectoids."

"Andorian?" said T'Pol, uncertain that she'd heard correctly.

"Yes," said Archer, "the Andorians have been very supportive of us during this time. They've joined our patrols and scouting missions, shared their star maps which filled in a lot of blanks and saved us a lot of time, and promised their assistance do deal with the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids, if we need additional firepower."

"I see," said T'Pol, surprised that the Andorians and Humans had formed such quick ties. "So have you found sign of the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids yet?"

"We have," said Archer, "though it was hard going at first. I mean, how do you effectively search infinity?"

"You are being dramatic, Admiral," said T'Pol. "Certainly the Xindi subspace vortex drives give their ships great range, but there are still limits to their movements, and those limits can be calculated. And you have these drives as well now, which means your scouts can cover more territory."

"Ok, you've got me," said Archer, "but we're still talking a vast amount of space to sift through for leads, T'Pol."

Lips moving slightly, T'Pol did the math in her head, and privately agreed with the Admiral. The prospects of finding the Xindi in that vast area was truly daunting.

"And yet you say that StarFleet has managed to find the Xindi, despite the odds," said T'Pol. "How?"

"We recently started making use of the psions among us, in our hunt for the Xindi," said Archer.

"Elaborate, Admiral."

"The seers among us, what you Vulcans call clairsentients, were the first step. The seers name started off as a joke by the way, but the name stuck. Anyway, the seers focused on the current location of the Xindi Reptilian and Insectoid homeworld, and described the system in which these Xindi had made their home, and described it in great detail. Thousands of seers, all isolated from each other, all nevertheless in agreement as to the system we are looking for, and the general direction. When I saw the numerous drawings, or listened to the many voices, all describing the same system, I felt chilled to my core, because I had seen the same exact system in my mind, when I sought out the Xindi."

"You are clairsentient?" said T'Pol, surprised.

"Yes," said Archer.

"Functional?" said T'Pol.

"What?"

"Can you use the talent at will with one-hundred percent reliability?"

"Oh," said Archer. "No, not functional, by that measure. I can usually gain relevant answers to my question, but not every single time. Say, nine out of ten times. Ninety percent."

"Fascinating," said T'Pol. "Perhaps you can give me a demonstration later, Admiral. But now back to the Xindi. So, you had countless descriptions of the system which the Xindi had made their new home."

"Yes," said Archer. "Trouble is that we haven't been able to locate that particular system in any of our star charts yet."

"Logic dictates that the Reptilians and Insectoids chose to put a great deal of distance between themselves and a furious humanity seeking vengeance," said T'Pol.

"Right," said Archer, "and although we couldn't give a precise X-Y-Z coordinate set, we pointed StarFleet in the right direction. So we scrambled as many ships as we could spare in that direction, to hunt the Xindi down. Some one hundred and fifty ships were led by Admiral Zhan in search of the new Reptilian and Insectoid homeworld, and they were joined by thirty-seven Andorian ships, allied to us, and led by Shran. They were not under our authority, but they worked well and willingly with our ships, so we considered ourselves fortunate to receive their assistance."

"How did you come by so many ships, in such a short time, Admiral?" said T'Pol. "StarFleet was quite modest in size, last I remember, yet when I brought myself up to speed after waking from my coma, I saw that the fleet numbered some five hundred ships."

"It was due to the Xindi probe attack which killed millions, T'Pol," said Archer. "We were in the Expanse at the time, but the threat of another attack, was on everyone's mind. The entire planet put everything aside, and focused its resources on building a fleet strong enough to repel any other attacks by the Xindi. Raw materials were diverted from the consumer economy to provide the essentials of building a fleet, a good number of manufacturing plants were retooled to provide the assortment of parts needed, and our automated factories did the rest, and it helped a great deal that Tellar provided us with additional raw materials, that Vulcan provided us with additional engineers and machinists, while Andorian ships supplemented our initially meager fleet, and provided military protection of our system, and it pleased us to be able to share the technological advancements which the Enterprise brought back from the Expanse with our allies, as at least a partial payment for the help given."

"So you go from a small fleet of a hundred ships, most of which were suited only for relatively short journeys in-system, to a fleet five times that size, a fleet capable of deep space travel," said T'Pol. "Impressive."

"Not all five hundred are combat ships, T'Pol," said Archer. "About a hundred are a mix of supply freighters, troop carriers, hospital ships for handling battle casualties, repair ships, etc… We've got three Erran Border Fleet, until just recently commanded by Admiral Zhan, which is named for the furthest star we could find on any star chart in the general direction of the Xindi Reptilian and Insectoid base. This is the fleet that's searching for the Reptilians and Insectoids, and it's the fleet to which our two friends are assigned. The Nomad Fleet, is commanded by Admiral Tomas, which guards our freight lines, tamps down on piracy, and does freelance scouting in their spare time. Finally, there's the Home Fleet, commanded by yours truly, which guards the Sol system."

"How is that going?" said T'Pol. "Have the Reptilians and Insectoids ships made any further attacks on the system? Have they tried to introduce new bio-weapons into the system?"

"Thankfully, no," said Archer. "That's largely due to the telepaths among us."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," said Archer. "As I understand it, the mental signatures of different species have a different feel to them, or different taste, or whatever, but a telepath can tell one mind from another, and one species from another."

T'Pol nodded. The Humans, so newly come to psionic talent, were interpreting everything as a physical sensation, thus the noting of differences in various species as feel by one telepath, as taste by another, etc… but they were essentially right. Minds had individual signatures, and these individual signatures fit within the larger signature of their species as a whole. Vulcan psions could easily tell one species from another at first touch, even if blindfolded.

"Yes, I understand," said T'Pol.

"We have telepaths aboard our ships, working in shifts," said Archer, "so the instant a Xindi Reptilian or Insectoid ship warps into our system, the telepaths detect their mental signatures, alarms go off, ships go to battle stations, and the Xindi are driven off before they can do anything."

"Efficient," said T'Pol.

"You have no idea," said Archer. "The telepaths alert the officers on their respective ships in a fraction of a second and the ships are headed for the Xindi within a minute, weapons hot. We killed two dozen of their ships, before they stopped popping in. We think they're trying to figure out a work around our security nets."

"I see," said T'Pol.

It had been a long time since Vulcans had made systematic use of psychics in war, for such use of psionic talent brought back memories of the dark days of the Vulcan soul, yet the Humans had every excuse to make use of them now.

"Anwyay," said Archer, "back to Trip and Malcolm. As I said, the Border Fleet under Zhan was cruising in search of the Xindi when they were confronted by hundreds of Orion and Nausicaan ships. You know about them and the Andorians, right? They've got some kind of blood feud going on."

"Not precisely, Admiral," said T'Pol. "Andorians despise both Orions and Nausicaans due to their criminal enterprises, and go out of their way to kill them on sight. The Orions and Nausicaans return the favor when possible, which means when they greatly outnumber the Andorians."

"Right," said Archer. "So, the Orions demanded that we stand aside and let them settle their disagreement with the Andorians. Zhan told the Andorians to run for it."

"Imperial Guards do not run from anyone," said T'Pol. "Their duty requires them to fight to the death, which then triggers a massive wave of retribution by Imperial Guards on Orion and Nausicaan ships, strongholds and planets. The latter two species know this is how the Andorians operate, but they can't resist striking at the Guards when possible. So, what happened?"

"As you said, Shran gave the command, the Guards dived into the fray, and Zhan froze," said Archer. "The Andorians had given us a great deal of help since the Madness Season, hell even before that, when they helped stop the Xindi weapon from attacking Earth, but to be fair to Zhan, his first priority was the Xindi. Right or wrong, he ordered the Border Fleet to hold ranks and let them settle the matter between themselves, and he's gone on the record as saying that he believed that the Andorians, once they realized they could not win, would run, and defuse the situation."

"What happened next?" said T'Pol, sure that Admiral Archer was about to get to the heart of the matter.

"Trip ordered the Columbia into the fray, and Malcolm and the Invincible followed a few seconds behind the Columbia. You know he and Trip are close, and Malcolm's too damn loyal for his own good, no way he'd let Trip go into battle while twiddling his thumbs. A dozen other ships followed the Invincible in short order, and then another dozen followed the first, and within a minute the entire Border Fleet was fighting for its life, against two to one odds. The largest naval battle StarFleet has ever fought was completely unexpected, and unplanned."

T'Pol said nothing, just waited for Archer to continue.

"The long and short of it is that the Nausicaans broke and ran, followed shortly by the Orions," said Archer, "after we bloodied them a bit. Zhan ordered that Trip be placed under arrest, but the Columbia's Security officer refused to obey the order. Zhan tried to send his own team to the Columbia but the Columbia's Helmsman shuffled and danced the Columbia so that the shuttle could not dock with the Access Hatch."

T'Pol raised brow at that. Such actions were clearly mutinous.

"Anyway, Trip ordered the Columbia back on course, and Shran's Andorians took up station round the Columbia, and then 130 StarFleet vessels, out of the 150 strong fleet, followed the Columbia. Zhan realized he'd just been dismissed by popular vote, and returned home with his ships in tow.

Archer stopped speaking, looked at T'Pol with a hard grin, and said, "That son of a bitch, Trip, must have balls the size of boulders, eh?"

T'Pol just shook her head in amazement, and waited for Archer to continue, and when the man showed no inclination to do so, she looked at Archer with a clearly expectant expression on her face, willing the man to continue his story.

"Well, as you can imagine, this whole episode was like kicking over a hornet's nest in StarFleet. Some wanted to hang Trip for mutiny, some wanted to hang Zhan for not backing up the Andorians after all they've done for us, but when it was all over StarFleet made the best of it. Zhan retired with full honors, ostensibly due to failing health, and Trip was appointed Fleet Captain for the duration of this mission only. This will never go to a court martial, it would tear StarFleet apart and public opinion would likely be split as well, but his career hangs on whether he fails or succeeds at this task. If he fucks it up, he resigns his commission, or he spends the rest of his time with StarFleet repairing floor polishers, coffee makers and toilets back at HQ."

T'Pol was silent for a while, then said, "Look what happens when I take my eyes off you Humans for a bit, Admiral. You are fortunate that I am back to set things right."

"Yeah, we are," said Archer.

"Has the Madness Season changed him, Admiral? Captain Tucker, I mean."

"I know who you meant. Yeah, it's changed all of us in some ways, T'Pol," said Archer, and left it at that.

"How was everything," said Eduardo, checking up on them both, and eyeing T'Pol's half-eaten chimichanga.

T'Pol caught his glance, and said, "You must know that there is no way I could have finished this beast, Eduardo. But it was very tasty."

"I'm glad, T'Pol," said Eduardo.

"May I take it with me? I can finish it off later tonight."

"Sure," said Eduardo, and picked up T'Pol's plate. "I see you killed off your plate, Jon."

"You know it," said Archer, then looked at T'Pol. "Dessert?"

"Impossible," said T'Pol, and Eduardo laughed as he made his way to the back with T'Pol's food.

"You want to stay at my place tonight?" said Archer. "Or did StarFleet set you up in a nice hotel?"

"My presence is requested at the Vulcan Embassy at 19:00 hours," said T'Pol. "I do not know how long they will keep me there, but my hotel room is just around the corner from the embassy, so no worries there, Admiral."

"Fair enough," said Archer. "Come on, we'll swing by my place. I want to show you where it is, if you ever need a place to stay when I'm out of town, or even if I'm in town. Trip and Hoshi have a key for such occasions, and I made one for you as well, T'Pol."

"That was thoughtful, Admiral," said T'Pol, standing, for Eduardo was coming back with her doggie bag.

"I'm glad to have met the famous T'Pol," said Eduardo with a smile, extending his hand.

T'Pol took the hand out of courtesy, and felt a bone-deep sadness in the man, despite the smile on his face.

"It was my pleasure to meet you as well, Eduardo," said T'Pol. "I will return as often as my schedule allows."

"I'll hold you to that promise," said Eduardo, then shook hands with Jon, gave them a last wave and headed back into the kitchen.

T'Pol noticed Archer slip a twenty dollar bill on the table.

"That can not be enough to cover all that food, Admiral. I still have some currency bills from my last time on Earth," said T'Pol, and laid down her food in order to dig into her little patent leather Hello Kitty coin purse which Trip had given her as a gag gift, but which she'd ended up genuinely liking, and using.

"Forget it," said Jon. "The twenty is for the waitress, not the food. My money's no good here. I make it up to Eduardo in other ways."

"Oh, ok," said T'Pol, and the two headed out into the parking lot. "May I ask a favor, Admiral?"

"Sure."

"May I drive to your place, and then the Vulcan Embassy?"

"You know how to drive one of our cars, T'Pol? A stick shift?"

"I know how to drive a car, fly a plane, a helicopter, steer a boat and ride a motorcycle, Admiral."

"I'm impressed. Why so well versed in our Human machines?"

"A hold over from my past," said T'Pol. "It was required of me to be familiar with the major modes of transportation on every planet I was, ah, 'working' on."

Jon tossed her the keys, and said, "Ok. Let's see what you can do, T'Pol."

He cursed himself minutes later, when T'Pol peeled out of the parking lot and pulled onto the freeway at over a hundred miles and hour, and then sped up further once on the freeway, as if trying to outrun the Devil himself.

* * *

Hours later, after seeing the Admiral's place and speaking more of the changes she'd missed, T'Pol pulled up to the Vulcan Embassy and did a neat 180 degree spin at 67.4 miles an hour.

"Jesus Christ, T'Pol," said Archer, terrified, excited and impressed by T'Pol's driving skills. "Where did you learn to drive like this?"

"I used to be an Uber driver, in order to make a bit of pocket money, when I first came to Earth," said T'Pol with a straight face, and Jon laughed. "Anyway, I saved you the trouble of having to turn around. This is a relatively narrow street."

"Yeah, thanks," said Jon, as they got out of the car, certain that he'd have to hose himself off somewhere before entering his house, for he must surely have soiled his underwear during T'Pol's spinout.

Jon pulled T'Pol's bag and her food from the back seat of the Porsche and handed them to her.

"Before you leave, Admiral," said T'Pol, "you promised me a sample of your skills."

"I did?"

T'Pol nodded solemnly.

"Ok, I'll try," said Archer. "But I usually follow a ritual. It's not strictly necessary, but ritual helps focus the mind. Out here in public view, without a chance to focus the mind, I'll just grab for anything that jumps out at me."

"Very well," said T'Pol, intrigued.

She watched Archer intently, but he merely looked back at her, both of them feeling somewhat silly with the extended, silent eye contact, then after a time T'Pol noted that the Admiral's eyes turned dreamy, as if he was not strictly focused on her any more, but as if he looked through her now. He smiled, his breathing rapid, his eyes still looking through her, then he blinked a dozen times, and made eye contact with T'Pol.

"Oh," said Archer with a smile. "I see."

"See what, Admiral? What do you see?"

"You hunt a BlackSand Hawk, T'Pol, but it will be he who captures thee, and puts an end to you."

"What does that mean, Admiral?" said T'Pol.

She was fascinated by the Admiral's words, for the BlackSand Hawk could represent no one else but Captain Tucker. Her mind meld with Soval had cemented that fact into her consciousness, in the first few moments of that meld, when she had noted the resemblance between Captain Tucker's gaze, and that of a BlackSand Hawk.

"Just the ramblings of a madman, T'Pol," said Archer. "Pay me no mind. I don't even know what the hell a BlackSand Hawk is, T'Pol."

"A BlackSand Hawk is a Vulcan raptor, a bird of prey, that is noted for its cruelty and its arrogance. It is considered cruel because it plays with its prey before it kills it, and it is considered arrogant because its favorite prey is the V'lassa Eagle, a raptor twice its size, yet one unable to match the BlackSand's ferocity, agility in the air, or endurance."

"Well, now I know," said Archer.

"Admiral, what did you see?"

"I had an imperfect glimpse of the future, T'Pol."

"Would you care to share it with me?"

"No. Your fate is your fate, T'Pol. It can not be avoided."

"I see," said T'Pol.

She was uncertain of what to make of the Admiral's words, or behavior, though she knew that Archer's words were not literal, but figurative. Still, that puts an end to you phrase did not sound exactly promising. T'Pol was many things, but not a coward, and the Admiral's words were true. Her fate was her fate, and she would meet it bravely, and she would meet it purposefully, no matter the outcome.

"I'll see you at the swearing in ceremony, T'Pol."

"Right, Admiral," said T'Pol. "Thank you for a pleasant and interesting day."

* * *

Later that night, T'Pol tossed and turned for hours, the Admiral's words playing over and over in her mind, until eventually, sleep claimed her.


	5. Chapter 5

— **Chapter 05—**

The next morning's wake up call at 06:00 hours brought T'Pol slowly awake. She spoke briefly to the man who woke her, and ten minutes later one of the staff dropped off a pot of hot herbal tea and a large cinnamon & brown sugar muffin. After eating T'Pol stretched, showered, meditated and then dressed in preparation for her coming appointment at StarFleet's HQ. She was about to call the front desk for a cab, when a knock sounded at her door.

"Ensign May, sir," said the young woman standing before T'Pol in a StarFleet uniform. "I'm here to give you a ride to HQ."

"Much appreciated, Ensign," said T'Pol, and in time, T'Pol stood in front of StarFleet's HQ.

"This way, sir," said Ensign May, and she then guided T'Pol through the ever growing StarFleet campus.

"This place has more than tripled in size, from what I last remember," said T'Pol to Ensign May.

"Yes, sir, and it is still growing. The Xindi attack had a cascade effect. Recruitment was ramped up, processing center had to expand, which necessitated housing facility expansions, medical expansions, and so on… There is even talk of creating a StarFleet Academy in order to have complete control of the curriculum and produce the quality cadets needed by the fleet."

T'Pol nodded, glanced around once more, and said, "Impressive."

"Here were are, sir," said May some ten minutes later, indicating that T'Pol should enter through the door.

"Thank you, Ensign," said T'Pol.

"It was an honor to meet you, sir," said May.

Unsure how to respond to that, for T'Pol did not realize how well known she was on Earth, the Vulcan settled for saying, "The pleasure was mine, Ensign."

On entering the room T'Pol noticed four Human admirals and Soval. The three admirals who comprised the Admiralty Commission were standing on a slight dais, while Archer and Soval stood to the side. Admiral Forrest indicated that T'Pol should join him on the dais, and formally thanked T'Pol for her service to StarFleet and her loyalty to the Enterprise in the Delphic Expanse. He then spoke briefly to T'Pol, and T'Pol reaffirmed her intent to join StarFleet. Admiral Forrest administered StarFleet's oath of service, and T'Pol was now a member of StarFleet, and the three men on the dais approached T'Pol to affirm their pleasure at having her in their ranks.

"You're with me, T'Pol," said Archer once the other admirals had left the room. "I'll wait for you outside and give you two some privacy."

"There is no need for that, Admiral," said Soval. "I only came to wish T'Pol good fortune on her new path."

"Gratitude, Soval," said T'Pol, for Soval had always watched out for her, done his best to aid her career.

Soval raised his hand and gave T'Pol the ta'al, the Vulcan salute, spoke a few words in Vulcan, and then left T'Pol with Archer.

"Let's go," said Archer. "We have a big day ahead of us."

"Oh?"

"Don't ask, T'Pol. It's a surprise."

* * *

"What do you think? She's a beauty, no?" said Archer, as he and T'Pol looked out at the new Enterprise through their shuttle windows.

The Enterprise retained much of its former appearance, but the changes were quite noticeable to T'Pol's trained eye. For one, the Enterprise had four nacelles now, two on each side, one stacked atop the other. For another, the body of the ship had an extra two or three decks to it, giving it a beefier, tougher look, especially when paired with the nacelle changes. She'd also gained thirty meters in length, or close to it. The last apparent change noticeable in the ship was the presence of shield emitters all over the hull.

"Crew?" said T'Pol.

"Two hundred."

"Top speed?"

"Warp 7 relying solely on the warp engines, and a combined speed of warp 8.5 if alternating Xindi subspace vortex jumps with the maximum speed of our warp engines."

"Very impressive," said T'Pol, for such figures would have been considered unattainable by even the finest Vulcan cruisers as little as three years ago.

"Yes, she's a sexy beast," said Archer fondly, as he slowly piloted the shuttle round the Enterprise several more times, then headed for the Access Hatch.

Once aboard the Enterprise T'Pol was greeted by a large number of crew members, a small mix of the crew from the former Enterprise as well as many new recruits. The recruits excitedly expressed their honor on meeting T'Pol, while the veterans were more discreet in their greetings, for they knew their former SubCommander well enough to know her preferences, and though T'Pol was too stoic to show it, she was touched by the comradeship she felt from these people.

Afterwards, Admiral Archer gave T'Pol a brief tour of the ship, and at the end of it guided T'Pol to the Captain's Dining Room, where they found Commander Sato waiting for them both. T'Pol noticed a toughness about Commander Sato that had not been there before, but despite that, Hoshi's eyes were moist on seeing someone she'd given up as good as dead, now risen to life.

"Forgive me, T'Pol," said Hoshi, and hugged T'Pol, and for her part T'Pol felt comfortable enough with Hoshi to hug her back briefly. "I'm so glad you made a recovery, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded, almost overcome by the affection she felt from Commander Sato. Archer laughed.

"She's a crafty one, this XO of mine," said Jon. "She's got a touch of power with Empathy, and likely wanted you to know how she felt about you, without having to do so openly."

"Thanks a lot you jerk!" said Hoshi. "That is to say, Admiral. Now you've ruined it, and made T'Pol uneasy!"

T'Pol realized that Hoshi had projected her own feelings to T'Pol, and was now reading her emotional state, without the need for touch. That trick was handy.

"Sorry, T'Pol," said Archer.

"Think nothing of it, Admiral. Commander Sato, I share you feelings, even if I may not express them in the Human manner," said T'Pol, then after a moment's pause, said, "but of course, you know that. You know, it is going to take me a bit of time to get used to the idea of psychic Humans."

"You're going to have to work harder at being inscrutable now, T'Pol," said Hoshi with a straight face, but a mischievous look in her eyes.

The three of them spent the next two hours catching up and speaking of happier times, then Hoshi excused herself to take care of some business, when the Bridge crew called for a commander on deck.

"This visit was quite nice, Admiral," said T'Pol. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Captain," said Archer, sliding a PADD towards T'Pol. "Your commission is here."

"Thank you, Admiral," said T'Pol, pleased, but not surprised by her promotion.

"Your ship is close by, and its specs are on that PADD as well, as are your crew's personnel records. I know being unprepared is your pet peeve, so you have two hours to cram some information in that big, beautiful brain of yours, before I deliver you on board your new command."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol calmly, where a Human might still be doing cartwheels about the room on being given such a promotion. "I will be ready."

* * *

T'Pol spent that two hours wisely. She first reviewed the personnel files for the first hour, reading the records of the officers in depth, then going over the records of the rest in a more cursory manner, for she had to prioritize her time for now.

She spent the next hour on studying her first command, named Athena. The ship was a one-off, an experimental design, and it was clear from the specs that it was a dedicated intelligence gathering platform. Shaped vaguely like a stingray, it trailed three long articulated tails as the ship slipped through space. The hull itself was quite unusual as well. A matte surface, an inky black, or midnight blue judging by the image displayed on the PADD, it did a good job muting the reflection of light, and what light was reflected seemed to be reflected in a somewhat random manner, and so the Athena would be difficult to spot visually at any but the closest of distances. Reading further, T'Pol noted that the reason for the matte appearance of the hull was due to the composition of the hull, which was not the usual tritanium or vanadium-steel eight inch thick armored slabs, but rather a carbon fiber reinforced with tritanium flakes and wires. Much tougher than tritanium or vanadium-steel alone, but exotic, and expensive. Moving on she noted that the three nacelles were completely contained within the body of the ship, in order to minimize the emission of light or sound from the nacelles, and when T'Pol moved on the the weapons specs, she noted that the Athena boasted three phaser cannon banks, and one proton torpedo launcher, so it could hold it's own in battle. All in all a solid and impressive package. T'Pol was familiar enough with starships and construction costs, familiar enough to estimate that this one ship cost the equivalent of five or six frigates to build, but it could do things which other ships could only dream of.

"How's it going, T'Pol?" said Archer, poking his head into the room.

"Quite well, Captain," said T'Pol.

"Time's up," said Archer. "Let's go."

* * *

If the Athena was an interesting ship from her specs, she was a beautiful ship when visually appraised. Archer piloted the shuttle round the Athena for half hour or so, from all vectors, allowing T'Pol to survey her first command in silence.

"She is lovely ship, Admiral," said T'Pol finally. "The most beautiful ship I have ever seen."

"I felt the same when I first saw the Enterprise," said Archer with a smile. "Let's take you in."

Minutes later the shuttle docked with Athena's Access Hatch and T'Pol grabbed her bag, then looked expectantly back at Admiral Archer.

"I'm not going in, T'Pol," said Archer. "This is your moment."

T'Pol nodded and looked at Admiral Archer, as the man pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to T'Pol.

"Your orders, Captain," said Archer, "directing you to join the Border Fleet and make yourself useful in the mission to track down the Xindi."

"Yes, Admiral," said T'Pol, pocketing her orders, and then heading for the now open door.

"T'Pol," said Archer.

She turned to face Archer, and the man gave her a good natured look.

"Good luck bagging your BlackSand Hawk," said Archer.

T'Pol nodded, turned and left the shuttle, but the last sound she heard before the shuttle door clicked shut was Archer chuckling at her expense. On turning round T'Pol was greeted by her senior officers.

One of them stepped forward and said, "Welcome to the Athena, Captain. I am Commander Jemez, your XO."

T'Pol nodded to the man, and looked at the others. Jemez would introduce them, though T'Pol recognized them all from the records she'd reviewed so recently.

"Allow me to present your officers. Commander Hanshiro, in charge of Tactical," said Jemez, "Dr. Ivers in charge of Medical, Lt. Salno in charge of Communications, Commander Lin in charge of Engineering and Commander Barlow in charge of Science. Ensign Tovar is manning Helm at the moment."

"I look forward to getting to know each of you in the coming days," said T'Pol, "but our orders require us to move swiftly now. Do we have the last known coordinates of the Border Fleet?"

"We do," said Commander Jemez.

"Set course for those coordinates now, Commander Jemez. We have no time to waste."

"Yes, Captain," said Jemez.

"Carry on then," said T'Pol, and headed for her cabin, as her officers went about their duties.

She found her cabin, and took stock of it all. It was not much larger than her old cabin on the Enterprise, but the room and furnishings were more agreeable to T'Pol. The walls of her cabin were painted a pastel green, her bathroom walls a pleasing shade of blue and the exposed metal that came as part and parcel of a starship was covered in hardwood veneers. A fine example of Vulcan calligraphy graced one wall, and a comfortable meditation pillow rested on the floor next to a low table on which rested an incense burner and several types of incense, a candleholder and several packs of candles. Best of all, her desk was obviously Vulcan made, and thus attractive and functional. After admiring the table, T'Pol moved on to the open closet, which held two dozen of her accustomed catsuit uniforms in StarFleet blue, and patched with the StarFleet logo, though T'Pol noticed that each uniform had a stripe of Vulcan red somewhere on her uniform, though the location of that stripe differed from uniform to uniform. T'Pol sighed, pleased. This place felt like home.

* * *

"Captain," said the Columbia's Comm officer, looking at Trip. "They got them. They're on board of the Invincible. In the Shuttle Bay."

The 'them' which the Comm officer had just mentioned were the crew of the small Xindi Reptilian scout vessel, the kind of ship which had grown more numerous as the Border Fleet moved further and further from charted space. The Xindi scout ships had been too fast to shoot down or disable at first, until the Tactical officers in the Border Fleet put in some overtime, and experimented with the firing subroutines to find a solution, and that solution required tuning down the power output on the phaser banks, and altering the firing sequence, so that rather one powerful beam of phaser fire, the new subroutines allowed the phasers to fire fifty shorter beams per second, in an effective mode of automatic phaser fire.

On hearing the Comm officer's words, Trip stood and left the Bridge, his XO, Commander Owens, automatically assuming command of the Columbia.

* * *

First Claw Mayun, was neck deep in trouble, and he knew it. He glanced to his two ship mates next to him. All three had been forcibly knelt by these cowardly Humans using electro-stun wands, and the sour scent of fear from his shipmates, unconsciously released, reached Mayun. Contemptuously, Mayun released a whiff of sharp musk in the air, a challenge to the others to remember that they were Reptilian warriors, but it did no good. Stories had spread through the crews which had faced this fleet in battle, and survived, that the Humans had been turned into demons by the Madness Season, and it was infuriating to the Reptilians that it was their very own weapon which had given the Humans this tactical advantage, these psychic talents. Worse yet, now that the Humans had Xindi drives, there was no escaping them. The Reptilians and Insectoids, the only true Xindi left, had to fight, and win, against these monsters.

Mayun shifted his attention, in order to determine numbers in the room. Three Humans with a stunner, one behind each Xindi, four Humans armed with phaser rifles standing between the Xindi and the door, and a sharp eyed Human, seemingly unarmed watching them with a wolfish smile.

The odds are bad, but perhaps I'll get lucky, thought Mayun, and if I'm really lucky these two worthless mardun with me will remember that they're Reptilian warriors!

He was planning his move… fall forward, roll, kick the legs of the Human previously holding a stunner to his back, stand, rise, rush the unarmed Human and take him hostage, then mo—

Something changed in an instant, and Mayun sensed it, for the watchful Humans stood straighter now, and the unarmed Human with the unnerving smile turned to face the Shuttle Bay door… and then he entered. A tall Human, seemingly fit, but otherwise typical of his species at first glance, save that Mayun felt a surge of fear at the sight of this man, an emotion which the other eight armed Humans had been unable to inspire in the Xindi.

He's one of the demons we created, thought Mayun, his fear rising as the man came closer to them all, and he cursed the Human aloud in his people's tongue.

The Humans had translation machines, yet no one seemed to have one, nor did they seem particularly concerned over that fact. The demon looked down at Ulum, and the Reptilian looked back at the demon, teeth bared, though whether out of anger, or fear, Mayun had no idea. The demon focused his attention on Ulum for a moment longer, then turned to Rlatten. Ulum went into a seizure just seconds after the Human had moved on to Rlatten, and he now flopped like a fish, yet the Humans watched him do so without a shred of pity in their eyes. The demon moved past Rlatten now, and that Reptilian showed no ill effect for it, so Mayun steeled himself to resist the demon's will, yet when he locked eyes with the demon, its cold blue eyes bored into the now petrified Mayun. A moment later, the demon moved on to speak to the unarmed man. It seemed that Mayun's worst fears were unfounded. These demons had no power over his soul!

"Get anything?" said Malcolm.

"Yeah, I got something," said Trip looking at the three Reptilians as if looking at three cockroaches. "Flush these lizards into space."

"Gladly," said Malcolm.

* * *

.

***I know I should have dressed T'Pol in the standard StarFleet coverall uniform once she joined the fleet, instead of her catsuits, but come on…


	6. Chapter 6

— **Chapter 06—**

With the aid of the Xindi vortex drive, the Athena reached the last recorded position of the Border Fleet within three weeks, rather than the thirteen months it would have taken at warp 5 aboard the former Enterprise, T'Pol's last extended point of reference for superluminal travel. Now that the ship had arrived at the proper coordinates, the crew of the Athena looked to their captain. As a trained scientist, T'Pol knew that the odds of finding any traces of the Border Fleet passage and direction would be slim to none, due to the passage of time, the natural degradation of energy signatures and the dispersion of physical clues, but it was logical to verify the facts.

"Commander Barlow," said T'Pol, naming her Science officer, "scan for anomalies."

"None noted, Captain," said Barlow.

"Sensor readings, Commander Hanshiro," said T'Pol, naming her Tactical officer. "Wide band."

"Nothing, sir," said Hanshiro who had taken the initiative to perform just such a scan a moment earlier, and T'Pol had no reason to doubt the man's findings.

"Lt. Salno, hail the Border Fleet," said T'Pol, addressing her Comm officer. "Repeat your hail periodically."

"Yes, Captain," said Salno.

"It may be hours, it may be days, before we get a response," said T'Pol.

Barlow, the Science officer, nodded his agreement with the Captain's estimate.

"Commander Jemez, my Ready Room, please," said T'Pol, and moments later, she and Jemez had left the Bridge.

Hanshiro looked at Salno, and then Barlow, and said, "Is the captain right? There's a wide variance between waiting hours, or days, for a response. Why?"

"For one," said Lt. Salno, "it's a matter of distance if we assume the Border Fleet is long gone from here, but it's also a matter of superluminal turbulence. I'm certain that Commander Barlow could explain it better."

"No, Lieutenant," said Barlow. "For all practical purposes you are correct. The Xindi vortex drive creates a high degree of energetic turbulence as the ship enters and exits subspace. That turbulence interferes with fairly weak energetic waves, such as those generated by our Comm transponders. They may or may not receive our first hails."

"Ok," said Lt. Salno. "The captain said to repeat the hail periodically. How often do you suggest, sir?"

"Once every hour will be adequate, Lieutenant," said Barlow.

Lt. Salno nodded, and said, "Yes, Commander."

* * *

T'Pol indicated that Commander Jemez should take a seat, once they'd made their way in her Ready Room.

"Let us discuss options, Commander Jemez, in case we do not hear back from the Border Fleet."

"All right," said Jemez. "Well, item one is that we can't stay here too long, Captain. It was here that the Orions ambushed the Andorians and the Border Fleet, and that's because we're in their space, and we're a lone ship. We'll be a tempting target, and they'll try to capture us, I'm sure."

"Understood," said T'Pol. "But keep in mind that the Orions don't have the Xindi drive. If we notice them gather round, we slip past them in subspace."

"Right, that's true," said Jemez. "Now other than making a calculated guess as to the location of the Border Fleet…"

"Do we any telepaths aboard the Athena?"

"Kesser in Engineering is a telepath, but he's a weak one," said Jemez. "I doubt he's strong enough for what I assume you have in mind, Captain."

"What do you think I have in mind, Commander Jemez?"

"I assumed you'd want Kesser to sweep the path far ahead of us, for signs of Human or Xindi sentience, as the Athena moves forward in space," said Jemez.

"You have seen this done?" said T'Pol, for she'd never heard of a Vulcan psychic doing such a thing.

"Yes, Captain," said Jemez. "On the Dauntless, my last assignment."

"Impressive," said T'Pol. "And Kesser can not do this?"

"He can, Captain," said Jemez, "but he's not strong enough to make it worthwhile. If we engage our Xindi drive, we move through subspace at the speed of three lightyears per minute, and we can do so for hours, so it makes more sense to make repeated jumps, and take scans between each jump, until we find them hopefully."

"True," said T'Pol. "Doing as you suggest is not optimal, but better than nothing if we do not hear back from the Border Fleet. I will try something on our behalf as well, if crewman Kesser is wiling."

"What is that, Captain?"

"I have some talent in telepathy as well, though no more than average for a Vulcan," said T'Pol, "but I will nevertheless attempt to contact the Columbia directly."

"I see," said Jemez. "What are your odds of success?"

"Nonexistent on my own, for Vulcans are touch-psychics, save for Bonded couples," said T'Pol, "but if crewman Kesser allows me to mind-meld with him, and subsume his psionic potential under my control, we can combine our abilities if you will, which will allow me to utilize the Human ability to use psychic abilities without the need for touch, and I can hopefully reach out to the Columbia and make contact."

"Interesting," said Commander Jemez, "and if that works, what are your chances of success?"

"Twenty to fifty percent, and we will make as many attempts as necessary. I happen to know two of the captains serving in the Border Fleet, from my time on the Enterprise," said T'Pol, "and that should skew my odds towards the higher end of the probability range. It is not so much a question of power but of focus, and trying to contact someone well known to me will improve my odds of doing so successfully."

"I see," said Jemez. "I'm certain that Kesser will do what it takes to aid you, Captain. He's eager to engage the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids."

"Good," said T'Pol. "Relieve him of duty, tell him to rest for the next couple of hours. I will do the same, and afterwards he and I will make an attempt to contact the Columbia. See that I am not disturbed unless we're under attack. You have the conn."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

Upon the Bridge monitor of the Columbia, two faces were displayed, Captain Reed's and Colonel Hayes'. Although the two had often butted heads in the past, they worked quite well together now.

"So we're all on the same page, right?" said Trip. "Because this will end badly if we fuck it up."

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm. "The Invincible will enter the system just outside the Xindi's sensor range. We will release our payload, then hide, and we'll remain on standby, with squadrons 3 and 7 waiting to join us, on your mark."

Trip had broken down the Border Fleet into thirteen squadrons of ten ships each, which could operate on their own, or join with other squadrons or Shran's thirty-seven Andorian battlecruisers, depending on the conditions they faced, and the forces required.

"Right. Make damn sure you crunch the numbers twice, Malcolm. The payload has to be on a precise trajectory, and moving at the proper speed."

"It will be moving as slowly as molasses dripping off a June bug's back," said Malcolm, and Hayes looked at Malcolm and smirked.

"Ok, you bastard," said Trip, "we don't all speak as poetically as that in the South."

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm.

"Colonel Hayes," said Trip, fixing his eyes on the man, "you play your part in properly preparing your men for this mission, but you are not to personally lead this mission. Whether it succeeds, or fails, I need you for what's coming."

"Yes, sir," said Colonel Hayes.

"Carry on then," said Trip. "I want to move on this in six hours."

Reed nodded, and Hayes said, "We'll be ready."

The video feed ended, and Trip stood, stretched and yawned, just about to head for the Mess Hall, when his Comm officer caught his attention with a slight wave, while listening intently into his earpiece. Trip stepped over to the Comm station and looked at the officer with a raised brow that would have done T'Pol proud.

"We're being hailed, Captain. StarFleet vessel named Athena. The communication packet passes muster - it has not been tampered with. The security code is current and correct. They've requested our location."

"Where are they," said Trip, and the Comm officer tapped her screen, which displayed the Athena's current location. "Hold off on your response, until I say otherwise."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

T'Pol entered her cabin, juggling a bowl of stir fried noodles, a cup of hot Arabica coffee and a hazelnut biscotti dipped in espresso flavored dark chocolate. She deposited her goodies on the twelve inch coffee table, and took a seat on her plump, but firm, meditation pillow. She arranged her cup, plate and bowl to her satisfaction, then picked up the bowl, and the chopsticks. The first time she'd been presented with these utensils she was certain that Captain Archer was putting her on, but when she saw the man using the chopsticks to expertly handle his food, T'Pol took it as a personal challenge. For the next few frustrating weeks, T'Pol ate everything with chopsticks, much to Captain Archer and Commander Tucker's amusement, but she worked tirelessly to master these utensils until she could manipulate them as easily as if she'd been born with chopsticks in her hands. She fished out a mouthful of the garlic noodles now, then a tasty chunk of green jackfruit, the fruit caramelized by the intense heat of the wok acting on the sugars in the fruit, and then some Inoki mushrooms, and nodded appreciatively. Her ship was blessed with a good chef.

T'Pol polished off the noodles in short order, and then savored her coffee and biscotti. She diligently brushed her teeth immediately after eating, then took a long hot shower, and finally stepped back into the main room, bath towel wrapped around her head. A period of meditation was called for before she and Kesser made the attempt to mind meld, so T'Pol began rummaging through her closet for a pair of pajamas. The room was a bit chilly.

It was then that T'Pol felt a peculiar sensation which caused her to forget the pajamas and straighten up. A non-psychic being would feel something akin to the sensation of being watched, or having someone step inside your personal space, but T'Pol had experienced psionic contact before and knew that a telepath had just touched her awareness, and given that there was no physical contact involved, it was most likely that the telepath was Human. This impression was cemented in T'Pol, when she felt the sensation of someone caressing her cheek, then gently rubbing her left ear. It was him!

Recalling her mind meld with Soval, T'Pol had no doubt that if Captain Tucker could induce the feeling of a spike driven into her/Soval's skull, well, a caress on the cheek and a brief tantalizing rub of her ear was small potatoes. Furthermore, given the Human tendency to render psychic contact in physical terms, she thought it likely that rather than an abstract sending, Captain Tucker's attention was actually here, in this room, in the same way that government trained Human remote viewers of the 20th century perceived their targets as physical representations, rather than simply absorbing the information sought for as an abstract data set. That realization caused T'Pol to yelp in panic as she realized that she was practically nude, and with one fluid motion she yanked the towel off her head, and used it to cover her front while backing herself into a corner, in a proper show of Vulcan modesty. Trouble was that consciousness has no front, or back, and she realized this fact when she felt a hand slide down her back to her buttocks, and T'Pol blushed strongly.

"You are being rude, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, eyes sweeping the room despite knowing better, and she felt a wave of amusement from the other end of the telepathic link.

A telepathic sending surfaced in her mind then, and she received an alpha-numeric sequence. The physical coordinates of the Border Fleet, as well as a 3D visual representation of the proper heading, then instructions on distance, warp speed and time, and finally, a mental image of the star system, and all that in a fraction of a second.

The sensation of a firm squeeze of T'Pol's left buttock and a last telepathic sending, the Commander's voice, tinged with amusement: "Good to SEE you, T'Pol."

* * *

T'Pol stepped onto the Athena's Bridge, and Commander Jemez slipped from the Captain's Chair to make way for her.

"Helm," said T'Pol, "set course for X8807.Y3431.Z9109K. Two Xindi subspace jumps, three hours each. Warp 6.5 in between the jumps, for a duration of six hours."

"Yes, Captain," said Helm, knowing that the six hours at warp 6.5 between Xindi jumps would allow time for the Xindi drive to recharge, and give the engineers time to give it a once over, for the Xindi drive was still new technology.

"That was quick," said Jemez.

"We got lucky," said T'Pol, then blushed slightly, as she realized that sentence had two meanings, at least as far as she was concerned.


	7. Chapter 7

— **Chapter 07—**

"We will be dropping out of warp in three minutes, Captain," said Herzel, the Invincible's Helm officer.

"Understood," said Malcolm. "Verify your coordinates."

Helm did so, and said, "Verified, Captain. We will be on point, outside Xindi sensor range."

Helm could make that claim with every confidence, for the other Xindi races had shared the limits of Reptilian and Insectoid technology, and even if that were not so, enough Xindi wreckage had been salvaged and examined to come to the same determination. Malcolm looked at Trip, and the man nodded back at Malcolm.

"Colonel Hayes," said Malcolm, "any last minute instructions for you men?"

"No, sir," said Hayes. "They're good to go."

Hayes' men were riding beneath the belly of the Invincible in a hollowed out asteroid. It had taken a search party of three squadrons two days to find the perfect asteroid, large enough to temporarily house ten men and their equipment, and also endowed with a high enough count of osmium to defy just about any sensor scan. Too large to bring aboard a ship, it took a dozen engineers four days to make a series of modifications to the asteroid, beginning with cutting the stone in half and then bringing the two pieces aboard the Columbia, hollowing the asteroid out, adding a small oxygen scrubber, adding a gyroscopically controlled stabilizing system which would insure that these ten men would have a comfortable ride no matter how the asteroid moved or rotated, and lastly added some magnetic seals, and put the whole thing back together again, once the men had climbed inside, for now, that asteroid, filled by ten MACOs and their equipment, currently rode beneath the Invincible, held securely in the Invincible's tractor beam.

Minutes later, the Tactical officer said, "Dropping out of warp now, Captain."

"Computer has the ball, sir," said the Helm officer.

Given the precision required to allow the stony projectile to reach its intended target area, the entire launch operation was handled by a computer subroutine written by Malcolm earlier. The Invincible immediately adopted a speed of 1/100th of full impulse, Helm automatically adopted a course of X-102B, Y-8802, Z-731, consulted the position of the stars with the tight parameters programmed into the subroutine, and when satisfied, the computer terminated the tractor beam, allowing the asteroid to continue on its way to the target, while the Invincible warped out of the system, all in a matter of 5.2 seconds.

* * *

"Ten minutes until we reach the given coordinates, Captain," said Commander Jemez, looking at T'Pol.

T'Pol nodded, looked at her Comm officer, and said, "This ship is built quite outside of StarFleet's normal parameters. The fleet will have us on their sensors, but hail them anyway, and confirm our arrival. I would rather not get blown to bits this day, being mistaken for a Xindi."

"Aye, Captain," said the Comm officer.

Ten minutes later the Athena dropped out warp to find herself close to some fifty StarFleet ships and ten or so Andorian battlecruisers stacked in four layers though with plenty of space between them, but T'Pol only had eyes for one particular ship, and there it was. The Columbia! She looked almost like the former Enterprise, save that Captain Tucker had also added two nacelles to the already existing two nacelles, but on the Columbia the top nacelles were offset, and one-third of the top nacelles hung over the bottom nacelles. It was aesthetically pleasing, preserving the lean, aerodynamic form of the original NX class, over the current Enterprises' more muscular build.

"Hail the Columbia," said T'Pol, and her breaths quickened.

"Yes, Captain," said Lt. Salno.

A moment later, a man with the insignia of a Commander flashed on screen, and said, "Welcome to the Border Fleet, Captain T'Pol. We are honored to have you here, and pleased to see that you have recovered."

"Thank you…" said T'Pol.

"Owens, sir. I'm the Columbia's XO."

"A pleasure, Commander Owens," said T'Pol, "but I believe StarFleet protocol dictates that I report to Captain Tucker, if he can spare a moment for me."

"He is absent from the fleet, Captain," said Owens.

"I see," said T'Pol.

"That's quite a ship you have, sir," said Owens. "Would it be possible to see her specs? I'd like to get a leg up on figuring how she'll fit into our missions."

T'Pol looked at Commander Jemez, and the man held up his hand with two fingers extended and mouthed, "Two minutes."

"You'll have them in two minutes, Commander Owens," said T'Pol.

"Thank you, Captain," said Owens. "I wonder if you'd be willing to attend a small mixer on the Columbia."

"We have time for that sort of thing, Commander?" said T'Pol.

"Ships come and go on their appointed duties, Captain," said Commander Owens, "but these social functions help us work more effectively, and there are people here that would like to meet you."

"Very well, Commander. When?"

"Four hours from now, Captain," said Owens.

"I will be there," said T'Pol.

Sure enough, right on the dot, the Athena's shuttle docked with the Columbia's Access Hatch then departed to make way for another, and a fresh faced Lieutenant escorted T'Pol to the Mess Hall on Deck E. Given that the Columbia was virtually identical to the former Enterprise, memory of which was fresh for T'Pol, the Vulcan could have found her way to the Mess Hall blindfolded, but the guide was not just a practical aid, but a matter of protocol, a matter of respect. Once there she met quite a number of the other captains, spoke with them of the capabilities of the Athena for there was a great deal of curiosity over the ship, and generally spent a pleasant enough three hours making professional connections, and then the bottom fell out, and the world went to hell.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty, come to life," said an oh too familiar voice, accompanied by a slow clap, and T'Pol winced mentally, though her surface poise was unaffected.

She turned to find Shran looking at her with a smile on his face, his antennas pointing directly at her, his face radiating that perfect blend of arrogance, belligerence, amused mastery and over-abundant chauvinism which the Andorian had chosen to make his trademark.

"Commander Shran," said T'Pol, "I would like to say that it is a pleasure to see you. Perhaps one day I will be able to do so, but that day is not today."

"Don't be like that, T'Pol," said Shran. "I know that you find me irresistible, and I feel the same about you, scandalous as that might seem to less adventurous minds."

"Umm, hmmm," said T'Pol, looking skeptically at Shran. "So, other than our mutual attraction, what else is on your mind, Commander Shran?"

"I'm glad to have you back, T'Pol," said Shran with a smile. "These humans are grim enough that you seem like a bright ray of emotional sunshine. How are you adjusting to the changes?"

"Well enough, I suppose," said T'Pol. "I hope this Xindi problem can be resolved satisfactorily."

"The only satisfactory resolution is the extinction of the Reptilians and Insectoids," said Shran, "or at least these clans."

"These clans?"

"When the Reptilians and Insectoids split from the other Xindi," said Shran, "they split in roughly two factions. Half took their chances in open space, looking for new beginnings, while the other half wanted vengeance on the Humans. What they planned for afterwards, I have no clue."

"I see," said T'Pol. "And you feel no compunctions over the mass murder of thousands of sentient beings?"

"Would you," said Shran, "if they'd done to Vulcan what they did to Earth?"

T'Pol said nothing, for Shran's words had hit the mark. Vulcans would be just as ruthless in that case, though they would call it Logic, rather than Revenge.

"Since you are here for a party, it is clear that you have become a social butterfly, Commander Shran," said T'Pol finally, "which means you have sources of information. Tell me then—"

"Let me guess," said Shran with a smile. "You'd like to know the whereabouts of Captain Tucker?"

T'Pol's cheeks colored slightly, though she was not aware of it, which only made Shran laugh out loud.

"It is logical to ask the whereabouts of the man in charge of this fleet," said T'Pol.

"True," said Shran, letting T'Pol off the hook. "He, Captain Reed, two squadrons of ships, and ten MACOs are hunting for information."

"Information?"

"Yeah," said Shran. "We're hunting for the Xindi homeworld, so we've been ambushing Reptilian scouts and interrogating the living, but no luck so far. The Reptilians are split into castes and the ones we've scooped up so far are the equivalent of cannon fodder. They've been pushed to the front lines for the duration of the war, and apparently most have not been told the location of their new home world. If they ever want to see it, they have to win the war. But sooner or later we're bound to get our hands on one of the Reptilian big wigs, and then the game changes."

"All right," said T'Pol. "What about the Insectoids?"

Shran scoffed openly at T'Pol, and said, "Forget it. Their language is a nightmare even with computer analysis, and though they're weaker than the Reptilians, they're fanatical. They fight to the death, and the ones we've caught so far have resisted interrogation."

"What about telepaths?" said T'Pol.

"What about them?" said Shran. "In this Human fleet we have some eighteen thousand men. Out of these men, I understand we have five very strong telepaths, some forty mid-level telepaths, and a couple of thousands of low-level telepaths. None of these mid and low level lesser telepaths have been able to link with an Insectoid yet. Now it's up to the big boys."

"And so…" said T'Pol.

"And so, Captain Tucker found a nest of Insectoids," said Shran, "so he's going to scoop some of them up, and try his hand at interrogating them."

"T'Pol! Captain T'Pol!"

T'Pol turned to see Dr. Phlox practically mowing people down on his way to her, a good natured smile on his face.

T'pol nodded agreeably, for she'd always felt a sort of kinship with Phlox on a ship of Humans, and said, "A pleasure to see you again, Dr. Phlox."

"Likewise, T'Pol," said Phlox. "Likewise!"

"I'll leave you two to catch up on current events," said Shran, with one eye on the plates of crab cakes, seared rib eye steaks and baked potatoes which the Galley had just put out.

"I am certain that I have you to thank for stabilizing me, and saving my life after Raijiin's attack, Doctor," said T'Pol.

"And I was glad to do so," said Phlox. "You were missed by all, T'Pol, and I'm not just being polite. I don't think you knew how much that crew appreciated your support."

T'Pol mumbled something, for she'd never been able to take a compliment, then she said, "I hear that I slept through a wild ride on the Enterprise."

"You did, T'Pol, you did."

"I even heard that you came across an Enterprise from another timeline. I have a hard time believing that, Doctor."

"And yet it's true, T'Pol. I saw the ship myself."

"Did you see my alternate self?"

"No, T'Pol, but Captain Archer said he saw her, and I believe him."

"Did you see my son?" said T'Pol.

"Yes, T'Pol," said Phlox. "He and Captain Tucker were quite inseparable for the short time they had together."

"I find it difficult to believe that a Vulcan could breed with a Human and produce a child, just like that," said T'Pol. "Why do you believe it to be true?"

"Well, as a matter of fact," said Phlox, "I spoke to my alternate self, and apparently I put a great deal of work into cracking the puzzle, and eventually I found a solution, and the result was your son, Lorian."

"I don't suppose you thought to ask your alternate self for the relevant research," said T'Pol, quite casually. "As a fellow scientist, I would find that information fascinating."

Phlox smiled, for he saw through T'Pol's calculated pose, and said, "As a matter of fact, I did."

"And?"

"Unfortunately, Captain Tucker got to him first, and invoked the ethics of medical privacy to seal those records," said Phlox. "As he was the only one of you in a position to make such a demand, my alternate self honored his request for privacy."

"And you just let it go at that?" said T'Pol, scandalized now, and not hiding it as well as she believed.

Phlox held a hand up, and said, "I'm certain that I could have changed my alternate's mind, given the time, but circumstances denied me the chance to do so. However, I know that my alternate self provided Captain Tucker with a record of his findings."

"Really?" said T'Pol.

"Yes," said Phlox, "although Captain Tucker has been too selfish to share those findings with me. I've toyed with the idea of breaking into his quarters and liberating those records, but he's too clever to leave them lying around, if he truly wants to keep those records private."

"Yes," said T'Pol, thinking along the same lines now, for the sake of science: she was a former V'Shar operative, and she was certain that she could succeed where a doctor might fail.

"Now, T'Pol," said Phlox, "will you join me for a bite to eat? We have much to talk about."

"I would like that very much, Doctor."

* * *

Lieutenant Talas came up to Shran, plate of food in hand, and said, "Come, Commander. Let us find someplace to sit and eat, and I will counsel you. You're a deeply troubled man."

Shran fixed T'Pol with an amused look, and said, "What?"

"You've been reduced to seeking social interaction with a Vulcan, Commander," said Talas. "Do you not realize how sad that is?"

"Yes," said Shran, chuckling at Talas now, "you should lecture me about inter-species relations, despite the fact that Captain Reed could most likely describe your body with a 99.9% accuracy rate. Would you like to talk about that, Lieutenant Talas?"

Lieutenant Talas apparently found something interesting in any and every corner of the room, save directly ahead into Shran's eyes, and the Andorian laughed at Talas.

"No? I did not think that you would," said Shran. "Now let's talk of the odds Idrik is giving on tonight's fight card. I have some credits burning a hole in my pocket."

* * *

After three days of moving in space sealed up inside an asteroid, eating precooked MRE meals, defecating inside one of three plastic buckets with nine other men watching and laughing, and in addition to spending all that time forcefully pressed against men who began stinking up the place a bit more each day that went without a shower, well, Master Sergeant Daniels was ready to eat his old fashioned .357 Magnum revolver and paint the walls with his brains, so it was a relief when he heard Captain Tucker's voice in his head, odd as that might have sounded not all that long ago.

"Master Sergeant, we're back, and you're one hour away from the most exciting ride of your life."

"Yes, sir," said the Master Sergeant even though there was no need for him to speak aloud his thoughts, and everyone stopped talking, knowing that the Sergeant was in telepathic contact. "We'll be ready."

"It's on?" said Trejo.

"It's on," said Daniels. "Get suited up."

The small nameless planet towards which the asteroid was headed was guarded by three Insectoid ships, for on the planet below a crop of hundreds of Insectoid eggs were about to hatch, and a dozen caretakers ensured the safety of the eggs, though they would eat a few dozen of the hatchlings when they cropped up. It was all just part and parcel of the beautiful circle of Insectoid life.

In any case, the crews of the ships were bored, but enjoying the time off. Baby sitting was better than getting vented into space while fighting the demons, and the crews made the most of it by indulging in extended sessions of gorging, and sleeping, only to repeat the cycle on waking, for molting time was coming soon, and each Insectoid needed plenty of nutrients to grow a new, larger shell. No worries though, for the computer systems were always vigilant, so the instant the asteroid entered sensor range, the computer identified the object as an asteroid, calculated the object's trajectory and determined that it represented no danger to the hatchery below, and then returned to its vigilant study of space for signs of the enemy.

* * *

"Is it possible that I will kill Captain Tucker?" thought T'Pol, while despondently stirring brown sugar and cinnamon in her bowl of plomeek porridge. "I mean, I know that I hate him now, but can I actually kill him?"

T'Pol wallowed willingly in such hyperbole despite the fact that such emotions were unbecoming of a virtuous Vulcan, but Captain Tucker had always brought out that side of her personality.

"Yes. I can and I will."

The cause of T'Pol's bad mood was, naturally enough, Captain Tucker. As Hoshi would say, 'What the hell?!'

Here the man discovers that she's roused from her coma, and has to nerve to reach out to her at the worst possible moment, though she was willing to grant that it wasn't intentional on the man's part, but then he simulates some telepathic feels, makes a wise crack as a farewell… and then, nothing, when he could now initiate telepathic contact with her as easily as lifting a finger. So, what the hell?!

It was fortunate for Captain Tucker that she was a Vulcan, and not an emotional Human!

* * *

"You should be entering the planet's atmosphere about now, Master Sergeant," sent Trip to Daniel's mind.

"We just did, sir," thought Daniels in response, for as long as Captain Tucker maintained telepathic contact, they could communicate both ways.

"I don't want disturb your concentration, Master Sergeant," thought Trip. "When do you want me to reopen contact?"

"One hour, sir," thought Daniels, truly feeling the turbulence now, for the asteroid had entered the planet's atmosphere and thus become a meteor, plunging for the ground at high speed.

Focused intently on his watch, Daniels waited patiently, allowing the meteor to take the brunt of atmospheric heat, and he prayed fervently that the engineering weenies had crunched their numbers correctly, or he and his men would be cooked like oven roasted chickens. As it turned out, he needn't have worried, for the engineers had been quite conservative, and had chosen to cram the MACOs in tight quarters for three days, in the interest of adding another two feet of stone between the heat and the MACOs, though these two feet were not technically needed.

Daniels slipped the mask over his face, and his men did the same without the need for instruction. He checked that the oxygen was flowing properly, then gave the thumbs up sign, which was returned by all the MACOs. Without further foreplay, Daniels nodded, and the magnetic locks holding the meteor together were deactivated, and the meteor split in two at 35,000 feet, and the two pieces continued their plunge to the ground, while the MACOs followed somewhat behind at a slower speed for another two minutes before opening their chutes. With a competence born of frequent practice they then followed Daniels' lead to the ground, for despite the fact that it was night now, each jumper was outfitted with infra-red beacons, which were visible in their specially coated face mask goggles, and shortly after that all were on the ground, having floated the eighty miles required from where the meteor was opened, to a location close to the Xindi camp.

One hour later, Daniels felt Captain Tucker's telepathic contact once more.

"Yes, sir."

"Everything ok?"

"No, sir," thought Daniels. "Trejo landed on a rocky outcropping and broke both his legs. About the only thing he's good for now is—"

Trip gave a mental laugh, and said, "Save that for the ride home, Master Sergeant."

"Aye, sir."

"Can you still complete your mission without Trejo, Master Sergeant Daniels?

"Yes, sir."

"Go then, do what you have to do," thought Trip. "I'll maintain contact with you so that I may know your status, but I'll stay out of your way, I'll remain silent. Our ships stand by to assault the Xindi ships on your mark, Master Sergeant."

"Yes, sir," thought Daniels.

* * *

The operation went as well as it could have, barring Trejo's broken legs. The MACOs moved in with stunner rifles and made short work of the hatchery's care takers, while squadrons 3 and 7, led by Captain Reed, made short work of the Insectoid ships, and even managed to transport three Insectoids from their dying ships, to the Human ships, to add these prisoners to the dozen Insectoids captured on the planet below, after which the Invincible eradicated the Hatchery with a nuclear strike from orbit.

And so it was that Trip found himself in one of Invincible's Cargo Bays which had been converted into a Xindi jail, while the captured Xindi Insectoids were lined against the wall in small, individual jail cells, four feet by four feet. They were quite agitated, clicking their mandibles relentlessly, rustling their wings, striking their chitinous legs against the bars of their cells as they looked at the demon in their midst, as they watched him kneel and close his eyes.

Trip reached out, trying to make contact with any of the Insectoid minds, and was surprised when he was unable to do so. He'd had no trouble doing so with the Xindi Reptilians, for the Reptilian mind was much like a man's mind, a power hungry, vicious, always hungry for power man, a man willing to do anything to come out on top, a black void of a mind that could never be satisfied by having less than everything. But the Insectoids were something very different…

He tried touching the Insectoid mind and found resistance. He applied force, but the very strangeness of the alien mind was a bigger obstacle than the Xindi's resistance. He kept at it for an hour, fruitlessly, then tried another Insectoid. This one offered no resistance, but proceeded to slam his head over and over again, against the iron bars, presumably in an attempt to kill himself, so Trip raised his rifle and stunned the Xindi, while the others watched.

The Xindi understood the message. There would be no escape from these demons.

Trip tried another Xindi and pressed it until it died, then moved on to another, and pressed this one until it started leaking some sickly looking yellow pus from its eyes, yet still no luck.

Finally, on a lark, he tried making contact once again with the now unconscious Insectoid, and managed to touch its consciousness. The other Xindi started screeching, and jerking at the bars in agitation, trying to disrupt his concentration, for Trip felt them all now mentally, and within them, one of them, all of them, he found his answer in a fraction of a second, for the Insectoids were linked into something of a hive mind, and what one knew, all knew, though it seemed to be limited by distance for although he now touched the thoughts of every Insectoid here, he could not feel the rest of the species. But he had what he wanted: the location of the Xindi homeworld.

Out of curiosity he delved deeper into the Xindi mind and found something unexpected: love. A fierce love for the Insectoid race, and the Xindi species as a whole, and a desire to save them all from the Humans, for the Insectoids still fervently believed in the Guardians and their warning.

Trip was surprised by his finding, but unaffected by it, for Xindi love had still killed fifteen billion people with the Madness Season, his parents among them, just as the Xindi had killed his sister before that with their first attack on Earth.

"I go now," he thought to them as he stood, and the Insectoids heard his thought, "to set your world on fire. Your kind will join the Xindi Avians."

The Insectoids went berserk, and he knew from his contact with their minds that they could keep that up for days, driven by the intensity of their fear, and of their pain.

He stepped outside the Cargo Bay, and the two guards stationed there stood at attention, surprised by the inhuman ruckus coming from the Cargo Bay now.

"Step on those bugs tomorrow morning," said Trip with a grim smile, for he knew that the intervening hours of pain would seem an eternity to the Insectoid mind, "but let them screech the night away."

* * *

It had been a restless five days for T'Pol, though the Athena had run a number of scouting missions, where the ship's stealth and superior sensor array came in quite handy, yet each time she returned to the fleet, she learned that Captain Tucker had not yet returned. If she were not a Vulcan she would have been anxious by now, for he'd been gone a long time, as she saw things, and he was the leader of this fleet. What if he was hurt somewhere, and in need of aid? Or perhaps captured by the Xindi! He would need rescue! Such were her thoughts just now. Still no sign of Captain Tucker! And still no communication from him this entire time. The nerve of that man!

To ease her mind, T'Pol showered and then decided to hit the Mess Hall for some coffee, when movement in space drew her attention, and looking out a porthole T'Pol saw two squadrons warp in with either reckless disregard for safety, or complete self-assurance, though one trait often indicated the other. She headed for the Bridge.

"Contact the Columbia," said T'Pol, looking at Salno.

"Yes, sir," said Salno, and a moment later Owens' image came on the Bridge monitor.

"Yes, Captain," said Owens.

"I noticed that two squadrons warped in just now," said T'Pol.

"Squadrons 3 and 7, sir," said Owens. "Captain Tucker has returned."


	8. Chapter 8

— **Chapter 08—**

T'Pol had retreated to her Ready Room soon after squadrons 3 and 7 had returned, Captain Tucker along with them. She retreated there because she had an urge to pace the Bridge, and that would never do. Once in her Ready Room she found her chair, folded up her legs, and began a round of meditation. How long she drifted in that purposeful awareness, absent thought, she had no way of knowing, but that state was eventually interrupted by a hail from Lt. Salno, the Athena's Comm officer.

"Yes, Lieutenant," said T'Pol.

"Your presence is required and requested aboard the Columbia, Captain," said Salno.

"Understood," said T'Pol, thinking, 'FINALLY', and shortly thereafter, T'Pol found herself led through the Columbia to the Captain's Mess by a young Ensign, and then the door opened, and T'Pol cursed her luck.

"We meet again, T'Pol," said Shran with a leer. "Something magical is happening between us, Captain."

T'Pol was disappointed, for Shran was not the one she wanted to see, then she noted that Lt. Talas and Dr. Phlox were also here. The presence of all these additional people did not please T'Pol, for she had expected a private meeting with Captain Tucker.

I see. My presence is required for a meeting, thought T'Pol. A meeting with others in attendance in order to keep it focused on fleet matters, a meeting with others present in order to keep me at arms length. I do not think so, t'hy'la.

That Vulcan word, t'hy'la, indicated at the very least a deep and lifelong friendship… at the very least, and T'Pol had come to admit to herself, since waking from her coma, that she aimed for much more than that with Captain Tucker. She had come to that realization after considering the fact that he was her first thought on waking from her coma, that he was the emotional driver behind her decision to join StarFleet, though she would likely have made the same decision for more logical reasons eventually. She had come to that realization through the long days and nights of contemplation as she made her way to him since waking, through the restless nights since she'd found the Border Fleet yet not found Captain Tucker there, through her annoyance that he'd not made telepathic contact with her since that first contact had come and gone.

T'Pol greeted everyone present, and now faced a dilema. The Captain's table sat eight people tonight, though it could be shortened, or lengthened. Three people on each side, two on opposite ends. Shran and Talas sat on one side, Phlox on the other, with an empty seat on either side of him.

"Doctor," said T'Pol, "which seat does Captain Tucker favor?"

She knew it would be one of the end seats, or the other.

"That one," said Phlox, indicating the chair on the north side of the table.

T'Pol heard laughter from Shran, but ignored it, and took the seat next to Phlox's left side, which put her next to Captain Tucker's favored seat. Now, if Captain Tucker chose the end seat on the south side of the table simply to be contrary, T'Pol resolved to rise from her seat and bludgeon the good captain about the head and shoulders with her fists. Problem solved, T'Pol stood straight and poised in her chair, as the stewards took drink orders, and shortly thereafter returned with those drinks.

The door opened and T'Pol's heart jumped in her throat, but it was Captain Reed, and the man grinned at T'Pol, as he took the end seat closest to the door, which pleased T'Pol, for now Captain Tucker's choice of seats was assured. Coincidentally, she noted that Lt. Talas, who had been seated next to Shran, hopped a seat to take the chair at Captain Reed's right hand.

"I've heard you were back, Captain," said Malcolm, looking at T'Pol. "It was good to hear, and we're lucky to have you with us."

"Thank you. Those captain's bars look good on you, Captain Reed," said T'Pol. "Congratulations."

"Likewise, T'Pol," said Malcolm. "That's a hell of a ship StarFleet chose as your first command. I've just seen the specs on it."

T'Pol opened her mouth to answer, and then the door opened, and Trip entered the room, his eyes drawn to T'Pol's, and the Vulcan looked down, overcome for the moment, for her heart was racing, her breaths quickened, and her cheeks colored, though she was not aware of that fact.

Fascinating, she thought, for such a response was atypical for her.

Trip chose the seat next to T'Pol, as she'd expected once Captain Reed had taken the other, and said, "A magnificent Andorian bastard to the left of me, a beautiful Vulcan to the right, and a doctor to care for them both, once they try to kill each other."

"No danger of that," said Shran. "T'Pol and I are about to embark on a wonderful romance. It's just a matter of time."

"She's a lucky woman, Shran," said Trip to Shran, then looked at T'Pol, for she'd finally looked up at him, face flushed. "You've chosen wisely, T'Pol. Shran is destined for greatness."

"Indeed," said T'Pol, grasping for normalcy, consciously working to bring her breathing under control.

It was a difficult thing to do though, for the captain's eyes were not as she remembered them. Oh, physically they were the same, but where they'd once been gentle and full of good humor, now they were cool and poised, and the good humor she imagined she still saw in those eyes was tinged by cynicism. T'Pol longed for an excuse to touch the captain and get to the heart of the matter, to allow her Empathy talent to interrogate the man's inner nature, in order to determine his emotions. Alas, no such excuse came to mind.

"It's good to set eyes on you again, T'Pol," said Trip, "though I prefer my last memory of you."

T'Pol gave a slight gasp at that, for she felt the captain's telepathic touch, and the image of his last memory of her slipped into her mind along with his psychic touch. Nude, startled, and lovely as he saw it, for he shared that last part, along with the nude and the startled part.

"Are you all right, T'Pol?," said Trip, amusement clear in his voice.

"I am fine, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.

To her relief, the stewards came close, taking attention from her as they began passing food around the table, and T'Pol finally had a moment to think since the man had come in the room, and her mind pointed out something troubling. This man standing next to her looked like the Commander Tucker he remembered, but he looked younger than remembered, and this after three years, and after dealing with the Madness Season and the grim aftermath. He should have been aged ten years by that ordeal.

Is he a clone?, thought T'Pol, grasping for straws.

She sensed amusement coming from the captain now, and realized he'd maintained his link with her.

Would you stop that?!, thought T'Pol. Eavesdropping on my thoughts is impolite!

I'm not a clone, thought Trip, and shared the thought with T'Pol. Talk to Phlox about it, if you're curious. He knows as much as any.

T'Pol nodded her agreement, then looked at the food before her. She had a plate filled with lettuce, Thai basil and mint leaves, but none of the greens were shredded, or drizzled with dressing. The other plate held a small bowl filled with a pink sauce colored by red shreds of some kind of vegetable, and four items that looked like egg rolls, which T'Pol had eaten before, but their skin was somewhat translucent, though blistered and browned in many places. She looked at Captain Tucker, and raised brow.

"Fried springrolls, T'Pol," said Trip. "Rice paper, wrapped round pork, shrimp, rice noodles, grated carrots and mushrooms in mine, while yours leaves out the pork and shrimp and adds tofu. Then you have some sweet chili sauce. Grab a piece of lettuce, top it with some mint and basil, plop a fried springroll atop the greens, wrap the greens around the springroll, dip it in the sauce, and munch."

T'Pol followed Captain Tucker's instructions, and was rewarded with a taste of heaven! She looked back at the man, and nodded her approval.

"My nuoc cham sauce is even better than the chili sauce, " said Trip, "but it has fish sauce added to the mix, so it's not an option for you."

"I am content with the chili sauce, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.

"So why are we here, Trip?" said Shran. "If it's just for the food and company, I'm game, but I had the impression that we were here to talk shop."

"Never spoil a meal with shop talk, Shran," said Trip, then turned his attention to Talas with a wicked smile. "Let's talk of Lt. Talas instead. What exactly is her function in the fleet?"

Lt. Talas who had been speaking to Malcolm in a low voice, and then laughing about something he said, turned round on hearing her name, and Malcolm grinned, for he knew Trip's purpose in bring round this topic of discussion was to play with Talas.

"Near as I can figure it," said Phlox in a good natured tone, "she's supposed to be some sort of liaison between StarFleet and the Andorian Imperial Guards, but most of her work seems to be done behind the closed doors of Captain Reed's cabin, if the rumors are true."

Talas stroked the hilt of the Imperial Guards dagger she wore at her waist, and said, "Your tongue wags freely, Doctor. I'm about to trim it for you."

Phlox laughed, held up his hands in a manner calculated to placated Talas, and said, "Apologies, Lt. Talas. Captain Tucker, I suggest we move the conversation along."

"Than perhaps you can tell me why Captain Tucker seems younger than he should, Doctor," said T'Pol, "all things considered."

"That is fascinating topic," said Phlox. "I cared for him when the madness took him, as I did for every crew member of the Enterprise, and in the process, Captain Tucker severed three fingers from his left hand, joint by joint, bit by bit, during that time."

T'Pol looked at Trip, and the man said, "The pain kept me focused, when I felt myself slipping into madness."

"It's why I allowed it," said Phlox. "I reasoned it was the lesser evil to having the captain slip into madness, and then death."

"And yet, I see that his hand is whole now," said T'Pol.

"Yes," said Phlox. "Once the madness passed, the fingers grew slowly back, over the course of eight months or so. He even grew back his appendix, which had been removed in childhood. It's quite fascinating."

"To what do you attribute these things, Doctor," said T'Pol.

"It seems that something within the captain has optimized his health," said Phlox. "You Vulcans have something similar, though not as extreme."

"The Healing Trance," said T'Pol, naming a discipline within the Focus talent.

"Yes," said Phlox. "Physical damage is healed at two or three times the normal rate during one of your Healing Trances, mental health damage is repaired, or at least minimized after a Healing Trance. I know Vulcans do not regenerate lost appendages, but until I get a definitive answer to your questions, we can view Captain Tucker's gift as something similar. It has its limitations, but it is a quite desirable property."

"What limitations?" said T'Pol.

"Well," said Phlox, "it won't keep the captain alive if he suffers traumatic damage, but I suspect that it will heal him completely, eventually, if he survives the trauma."

"Quite useful," said T'Pol. "Do all Humans have this ability now?"

"His is the only case I've seen, T'Pol," said Phlox, "but there must be others, numerically speaking, if one calculates the odds."

The stewards had cleared the now empty plates, and brought out freshly made French inspired Viet baguettes, along with bowls of bo kho for the majority, beef stewed with lemongrass, carrots, fish sauce, five spice powder, star anise and ginger, all swimming in a tasty broth, and topped with cilantro, while T'Pol had rice noodles and bamboo shoots in a lemongrass and vegetable broth, which the Vulcan found quite yummy.

Clearly Shran agreed, for he said, "The Columbia has a good chef. I find this flavor profile quite tasty."

T'Pol nodded her agreement, and Phlox did the same.

"It's Vietnamese food, Shran," said Trip. "You owe me a bottle on Andorian Ale if you like the food, Shran."

"Mmmm, I love it," said Shran. "I'll have a case delivered to you tomorrow."

"Much obliged, Commander," said Trip, who had grown quite fond of the stuff.

The plates were cleared once again, and the stewards brought out a vegetable stir-fry atop rice for T'Pol, and soft-shelled crabs pan-fried in butter and served atop rice for the rest, and for the next twenty minutes only moans and groans were heard from all, before empty plates were cleared once again, only to be replaced with hot coffee and cheesecake slices generously topped with a fresh mango puree.

"Oh, this was a great meal, Trip," said Malcolm, and Talas nodded her agreement: until tonight, the Andorian had never tasted either cheesecake, or mangoes.

"Indeed," said T'Pol.

"So what's up?" said Shran. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"I located the new Xindi Reptilian and Insectoid homeworld," said Trip, and everyone drew up upon hearing that, for this was of monumental importance, which could end this war, "but my telepathic knowledge needs to be fleshed out with precise physical data, before we make our move. No point in taking the Border Fleet there, only to lose half the fleet when the ships warp inside planets or asteroids, or a sun, etc… We need precise sensor telemetry readings, so I'm sending the Athena there to survey the region, and I'm tagging along for the ride."

T'Pol liked the last part of what she heard, though she showed no signs of it.

"That's sensible," said Shran, and Malcolm nodded .

"We'll be gone for weeks," said Trip, "and I'd love to leave the Border Fleet in the capable hands of an Imperial Guard, Shran, but I can't risk the fleet on your Guard's do or die attitude."

Shran chuckled at that, and signaled his understanding.

"So I'm leaving Malcolm in charge, and I'll expect you to support him while I'm gone," said Trip. "Don't do anything to tip the Xindi off that anything has changed. Keep patrolling this sector, engage them round here, keep their attention here."

"Done," said Shran. "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow," said Trip.

Talk round the table degraded now to pure social interaction, and a pleasant time was had by all, but eventually, Malcolm excused himself, Talas slipping from her seat to follow him. Phlox was next, and then Shran, but T'Pol hung back, ostensibly in order to finish her coffee, though privately wondering how to reach out to Captain Tucker, and make her interest in him clear.

Finally, Trip rose, and said, "I need some sleep, T'Pol. We leave the Border Fleet tomorrow."

"Understood," said T'Pol.

She rose from her chair, and moved for the door, for she was willing to wait until she had Captain Tucker all to herself on the Athena before reaching for more from the man, but as she moved past him, Trip grasped her gently by her bicep, and said, "It's good to have you back, T'Pol. I've missed you."

And there it was. Trip's grip on her bicep completed the circle and allowed T'Pol's Empathy talent to perceive the man's emotions. She felt his affection for her, his love, his insatiable hunger for her, and his yearning for possession, all held in check through sheer force of will. That was what she felt, and it was more than enough. For the first time since she awoke from her coma, T'Pol relaxed, truly relaxed, far more so than in the deepest meditation. This, what she felt from Trip, was all that mattered. All other problems would resolve themselves, or not, but she knew that no matter the twists and turns, she would end up as Captain Tucker's mate, assuming they lived through this showdown with the Xindi.

"Of course you have," said T'Pol, boldly now, for with that touch, Trip had nowhere to hide. "I am adorable."

"Don't get cocky," said Trip, noting the nature of T'Pol's thoughts now as naturally as noting the color of her eyes. "I'm in close contact with a couple of Vulcan mail-order brides who match well with me, in case we don't work out, and what's more, every pretty Ensign in StarFleet will pile up atop the other, like a mountain of wide-eyed kittens, each hoping to be the one selected by the captain of the Border Fleet."

"That is unfortunate for them all," said T'Pol, "for I am clearly the pick of the litter, Captain. The Vulcan mail-order brides, and the mountain of kittens, well, they must learn to live with their disappointment."

Trip grinned, and then released his hold on the Vulcan.

"Good night, Captain," said T'Pol, and made her way for the door.


	9. Chapter 9

— **Chapter 09—**

T'Pol bounced from her bed at 06:00, her usual time, though she had not slept a wink the night before. She meditated, showered, ate a light breakfast and handled ship's business until noon, when she contacted the Columbia.

"Yes, sir," said Commander Owens.

"I called to inquire if Captain Tucker is ready yet to board the Athena, Commander Owens."

"I was just about to contact you, Captain. He's headed for the Shuttle Bay as we speak," said Owens. "He'll be on board the Athena in a matter of minutes."

"Thank you, Commander."

"My pleasure, sir."

Sure enough, Trip boarded the Athena ten minutes later, duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, to find T'Pol waiting for him at the Access Hatch.

"Good morning, Captain," said Trip. "Perhaps you are not familiar with StarFleet protocol, but you're performing an Ensign's job, or maybe a Lieutenant's."

"Nonsense," said T'Pol. "Let me show you to your quarters, Captain Tucker."

"I'm sure you have more important things to deal with, Captain," said Trip. "I'm familiar with your ship's layout. Just give me a location."

"This way, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.

Soon after, they ended up on Deck B, and T'Pol opened the door to cabin #3. Trip smiled, for he knew that T'Pol's quarters were just across the hall, in #1. Obviously, the Captain wished to keep an eye on him.

"Nice cabin, T'Pol," said Trip, taking his cabin in with a glance. "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, her eyes running over Captain Tucker's form, until the man turned around, and noticed the guilty look on her face.

"Something on your mind, T'Pol?" said Trip with a knowing smile.

"Ah, no, Captain," said T'Pol, caught flat-footed now. "Will you lunch with me before I have to return to the Bridge?"

"Sure," said Trip, reaching out to T'Pol telepathically and transferring an alpha-numeric sequence, "but please set course for these coordinates first."

"One moment," said T'Pol.

She moved for the wall mounted Comm unit, and gave the orders setting the Athena in motion, then looked at Trip.

"This way, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, leading him to her cabin.

"I like it, T'Pol," said Trip, moments later, looking round the Captain's quarters. "It suits you."

"I am pleased with it," said T'Pol, then excused herself to speak briefly into the Comm unit.

"Lunch? Captain's Mess, Deck C, north end," said Trip, in order to prove to T'Pol that he was familiar with the Athena's layout, and so avoid the hassle of having T'Pol assign an Ensign as his perpetual babysitter."

"I thought that we would eat here," said T'Pol, "unless you would feel more comfortable in the Captain's Mess."

"No, this is great," said Trip, looking around, then plopping himself down on a floor cushion by the coffee table.

T'Pol joined him at the table and the two made small talk until a chime announced a visitor to the Captain's quarters. T'Pol answered the door, and returned a moment later with a picnic basket of sorts, from which T'Pol unpacked an iced coffee, an iced tea, two bowls of Cuban black bean soup, two sandwiches, a large fried oyster po-boy for Trip, a Vietnamese banh mi sandwich for T'Pol, fried tempeh substituting for meat. Lastly, T'Pol pulled out a nice sized square cut of cake, and laid it on the table.

"Where's your piece of tiramisu?" said Trip, eyeing the sole piece of cake quite possessively.

"I do not want any cake," said T'Pol. "It is all yours."

"Excellent. But just to make sure you don't change your mind," said Trip, sliding the cake to his side of the table.

"I do not want to speak of cake, Captain Tucker. Enough with the cake."

"All right," said Trip. "What's on your mind? You seem agitated."

"I want to speak of us, Captain Tucker."

"Us, T'Pol? That's a bold and unexpected approach from you. So, who are you, and what have you done with my T'Pol?"

"It pleases me to hear you call me 'your' T'Pol, Captain Tucker."

"Really? Here you want to get all cozy, and personal, and you're still calling me Captain Tucker."

"You are right," said T'Pol. "So let's talk, Trip."

"Ok, let's talk," said Trip. "What about us?"

"I wish to declare Koon-ut So'lik, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol. "In essence, I am expressing my desire to become your mate, and it is my hope that you will accept my proposal."

"What's that?" said Trip. "Come again..."

"I am proposing marriage, Trip," said T'Pol. "You know, between you and I."

Trip remained silent, and T'Pol watched his face closely, assuming that he was giving the matter proper consideration, but the silence continued, and T'Pol grew uneasy. Why the delay?

"Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, looking intently at the man. "Trip."

"Sorry, T'Pol," said Trip. "You caught me by surprise. So let me ask you this. Before you laid down for your little three year catnap, I thought we were growing closer. In fact, I remember clearly our last neuro-pressure session, and how cute you looked, and how pleasant I found your touch... and how necessary."

"I remember that session as well," said T'Pol, "mainly due to the fact that you were about to drop those neuro-pressure sessions, and me along with them, due to a comment by Captain Reed."

"It's not like that. I was looking out for you, T'Pol," said Trip. "You were doing something nice for me, and I didn't want your feelings hurt by Human gossip, when you inevitably overheard the crew speculating about the nature of our association. Malcolm said—"

"You know what, to use the Human vernacular, 'Fuck Malcolm'," said T'Pol, and Trip started laughing.

"What is so funny, Trip?!"

"Nothing, nothing. As I was saying, although we were drawing closer, we've never had any intimate contact, T'Pol. We've never even kissed! So how can you know that you want to become my mate?"

"When you touched me yesterday, I felt your emotions for me, Trip. That is enough for me."

"Yes, and speaking of that, I've just found out about your talent with Empathy yesterday," said Trip, "when I felt the effects of my touch in your mind, but you've had your hands on me before during our neuro-pressure sessions, so you knew even then how I felt about you, yet you said nothing. Why now?"

"I could make excuses, logical excuses," said T'Pol, "but essentially, I was a afraid back then, Trip. When I woke from my coma though, you were first on my mind, the only thing truly on my mind, and I know now that you share my feelings, so it is logical that we mate."

Trip fell silent as he considered T'Pol's words, and she, misunderstanding his silence, said, "If you are concerned over the fact that we can not Bond as Vulcan couples do, I assure y—"

"It's not that, T'Pol," said Trip. "I can Bond you to me if I wish."

"What?" said T'Pol.

"I said I can Bond you, T'Pol."

"If you can do so, than why you haven't done it already?" said T'Pol, a defiant look on her face, for she was certain that she would not like the answer.

"I'm not an empath, like you, T'Pol," said Trip, "and I wasn't 100% sure that you'd welcome the Bond."

"Oh," said T'Pol, oddly enough finding Trip's argument quite logical. "But you can be, Trip. You have the power to look within me as deeply as you care to. You used a small part of it on Soval. Use it on me. Now. Then you will know my thoughts, and my heart."

"You sure?"

T'Pol nodded, and the two faced each other across the table, when she felt a telepathic touch, and she felt the beginnings of Trip's power moving through her mind. Having a touch of the psionic power herself she could gauge it as it moved around her, and through her, and she felt as small and fragile as if standing on a beach as the tide came, and the entire vast ocean rushed into her, and through her. She gasped aloud, with pleasure, for her response now was not tinged by Soval's unease, and fear. How long she floated in that state she knew not, but when she came out of it, she noted that Trip was looking at her, a slight smile on his face.

"I accept your proposal, T'Pol."

"When?" said T'Pol, meaning, when will you Bond me?

"When this is over," said Trip, meaning the entanglement with the Xindi, and T'Pol nodded her agreement.

"I should get back to the Bridge," said T'Pol. "I must relieve Commander Jemez, so that he might take his lunch. I am very glad that we spoke, Trip."

Trip nodded, and leaned across the table to kiss T'Pol for the first time, and it was long, and soft and sweet, for they had no time to start a fire now, though judging by T'Pol's cute little whimpers she was about to throw propriety to the winds, and allow Commander Jemez to soldier on through his day, without his lunch.

"You like?" said Trip.

"Very much," said T'Pol. "It was my first."

"I know," said Trip, smiling, knowing now that Vulcans did not indulge in casual sex, given the dangers of accidentally Bonding with their partner.

* * *

Trip spent the rest of the day in Engineering, happily getting his hands dirty, for the Athena was one of the newest ships in the fleet with a variety of new technologies built right in, and as an engineer, Trip found it exhilarating. When T'Pol called for him at dinner, well Trip was mid-deep in a warp matrix realignment, and so begged off dinner, and by the time he called it a day, it was well past midnight. He showered, put on some soft, all cotton gray shorts, debated on going to the Mess Hall for a snack, then decided against it, and stretched out on the bed to unwind.

Shortly afterwards, T'Pol crossed the hall with the stealth of a feline, bypassed the door's security check due to her rank, and entered Trip's quarters. The computer system sensed weight and movement on the floor, and the dim night-light came on, more than enough to reveal Captain Tucker stretched out on his bunk, a pillow over his eyes, and T'Pol debated leaving the room and letting the man sleep peacefully, but then felt a light psionic touch, and realized that Trip now used his psionic powers as often and as unconsciously as he used his physical senses.

"You're up late," said Trip, yawning, having detected the identity of his late night intruder from her mental signature. "Can't sleep?"

"Sleep is for suckers, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, and Trip chuckled.

"Trip," said T'Pol, "look at me."

Trip pulled the pillow off his face and looked at T'Pol through sleepy eyes, only to see her slip off her silk robe and reveal the lovely Captain T'Pol of the starship Athena, wearing nothing but a pair of ankle length cotton socks.

"Oh! My! God!" said Trip, spinning round to take a seated position on the bed, wide-eyed now.

"I take it you approve?"

"Oh, yes, T'Pol," said Trip, and tapped his thigh twice.

T'Pol took his meaning, and came to sit on his thigh. She gave Trip a kiss, while his hands roamed her body with complete assurance, and without restraint.

"Maybe you want me to leave so you can go back to sleep?" said T'Pol, playfully teasing Captain Tucker.

"Yeah, maybe I don't," said Trip.

"No, you look sleepy," said T'Pol, still teasing Trip, and moving half-heartedly to rise, "so I will—"

She squealed suddenly then, as Trip pulled, or rolled, or something and she found herself pinned beneath Captain Tucker. Then as Trip started putting his hands and lips on her, and then eventually moving inside her, T'Pol lost all powers of logic, and reason, and despite the fact that the physical pleasure was overwhelming, and the emotional pleasure of being so close to Trip intoxicating, well, she suffered, for the cruel, cruel man teased her, by doing something as he moved inside her, something that was just a hair's breadth away from Bonding her, so close, and yet so far, for Trip was ruthlessly denying her the completion of the Bond. The combination of all those factors was all like throwing gasoline on a fire, and T'Pol burned the whole night long, as Trip, laughed, and teased, and moved.

The next morning, T'Pol rose at 06:00 without the clock, and kissed Trip's lips before slipping to her quarters to prepare for the coming day. Two hours later, Trip joined her on the Bridge of the Athena, and T'Pol nodded quite casually to the man, a feat of which she was justifiably proud, considering that she wanted to throw herself into his arms, no matter the outrage that such act might cause amongst the Bridge crew.

"How's the old girl this morning?" said Trip, the hint of a smile on his face. "The Athena, I mean."

"Purring like a satisfied kitten, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, "no doubt due to the hours you spent tinkering with her, yesterday. You were most thorough with your attention, or so my Chief Engineer tells me."

T'Pol was proud of herself for that. Who needed telepathy, when communicating through subtle interaction was as satisfying as this, with none the wiser.

Well, almost none, for Salno had been heading out the door this morning for the ship's gym, and she'd seen T'Pol slip from Captain Tucker's quarters, the Vulcan moving so swiftly that Salno almost convinced herself that she'd imagined it… almost, but even if she'd convinced herself of that, this undercover pillow talk would have swung the pendulum back to her initial impression.

No matter, thought Salno with a smile, for I'm the very soul of discretion.

And so it went for the next twenty-two days as the Athena made its way to the sector in which the Xindi Reptilian and Insectoid homeworld was located. Trip spent his days in Engineering, tinkering with the engines of the Athena, and the nights tinkering on a much more exotic and delightful piece of Vulcan machinery, one which sighed, and begged, and whimpered, and pleaded, gasped, and climaxed repeatedly.


	10. Chapter 10

— **Chapter 10—**

The Athena wisely minimized its exposure to the Xindi during the ten days it moved in Xindi space by cautiously taking sensor telemetry readings from as far away as practical, and as quickly as possible, while the ship's excellent sensor nets allowed the Athena to avoid the majority of Xindi sweeps, and it's stealthy nature and cunning Vulcan captain allowed the ship to avoid detection by making use of physical phenomena to conceal the Athena. Oddly enough, the only close call which the Athena had in all that time was on the way out, when a Xindi patrol of five Reptilian ships suddenly dropped out of a Xindi subspace vortex, to face the Athena, and here the ship's unique and atypical appearance served it well, for the Reptilians did not realize that they were dealing with a Human ship.

"Our weapons are hot, Captain," said Commander Hanshiro, the Athena's Tactical officer, who had acted on his own initiative to bring the weapons online.

"We're being hailed, Captain," said Salno, tensely, for the Xindi clearly did not feel threatened by one ship, weapons hot, or not.

"I suggest you target the Xindi ship on the left, Captain," said Trip, standing next to T'Pol.

"Do so, Commander Hanshiro," said T'Pol: uncertain of Captain Tucker's purpose, but placing her trust in the man himself.

"The Xindi are repeating their hail," said Salno. "We are to power down our weapons, and open communications, or we will be fired upon."

Now, thought Trip, and shared that thought with T'Pol.

"Open fire," said T'Pol, and Hanshiro obeyed his orders.

Two photon torpedoes, and a salvo of phaser fire reached out for the Xindi ship on the left, and T'Pol expected the rest of the Xindi to respond immediately with a withering counterattack, but instead the Xindi ship on the far right plowed at speed into the others, taking three of the other Xindi ships completely out of the game, and damaging the fourth quite badly. The Athena danced with the fifth Xindi briefly, for its shields had deflected most of the damage which the Athena had sent its way, only to then watch the Reptilian ship vanish into a Xindi vortex.

"After them," said T'Pol to Helm.

"Yes, Captain," said the Helm officer, though Tactical managed a salvo of photon torpedoes on his own initiative, which served to blot out the already damaged fourth Xindi ship, before the Athena entered the subspace vortex.

After a twenty minute chase, the Athena caught up to the last Xindi, and dispatched it, though suffering some physical damage and two dozen crew injuries of various severity in the process, as well as three deaths.

"Resume our original course back to the Border Fleet," said T'Pol.

"Yes, Captain," said Helm.

"Captain Tucker, my Ready Room please," said T'Pol.

Moments later, she turned to a now seated Captain Tucker, and said, "What did you do to the Xindi?"

"I determined which of the Reptilian Helmsman was most susceptible," said Trip, "and then triggered his flight instinct, as in fight-or-flight. He went to full impulse and the results were predictable when he bolted."

"That's it?"

"I can do more, but that was enough," said Trip. "And when I say I triggered his flight instinct, I mean he was instantly terrified beyond belief. He wasn't thinking rationally, thus no attempt to plot a prudent course, just blind panicked flight."

"Quite effective," said T'Pol.

"Sharing a bit of our good times Madness Season experiences with the Xindi. You should see Malcolm's little trick," said Trip. "It will make your blood run cold."

"What is it? Captain Reed makes use of psionics as a weapon?"

"He is a weapon, but I suppose you can say that about all of us to a degree," said Trip. "Now, I'm off to help repair what damage we took. I'm sure the Engineering staff could use every hand."

"Carry on, Captain Tucker."

* * *

"Job well done, T'Pol," said Shran, looking intently at the series of starmaps in his information packet, all generated from the data brought back by the Athena.

They were all in the Captain's Mess on the Columbia, Trip, Shran, Malcolm & T'Pol, and had just concluded a quick lunch.

"Very well done," said Malcolm, who had reviewed the maps an hour earlier. "Hell of a place the Xindi chose to settle down though."

The system in which the Xindi had chosen to settle was uncomfortably close to a black hole in space, which effectively barred them from traveling, or escaping, in that direction at all, due to the gravitational pull of the black hole.

"It has its benefits as well," said Shran. "That black hole means they can't be approached from that direction either, so they can focus their efforts in defending half the space they'd normally be called upon to defend, and so they're effectively doubling the impact of their numbers. If it wasn't for your Human psionic tricks, I would say that it's virtually an act of suicide to assault the Xindi."

"True," said Malcolm. "Now what?"

"Now we end this," said Trip. "Fleet wide alert. We leave in 72 hours."

"Aye, sir," said Malcolm. "We'll be ready."

"Good," said Trip. "Now, what did we miss while we were gone?"

"Nothing much. It's been the same old, same old," said Malcolm, "though we lost three ships since you've been gone."

Trip nodded. The Xindi were no joke.

"What's this make our losses so far?" said Trip.

"Nineteen, StarFleet" said Malcolm, "and five Andorian."

"We'll put an end to it soon," said Trip.

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm vehemently, and Shran nodded his agreement with Malcolm.

"Now, what say to a few drinks," said Trip, "before we split up for our respective ships?"

"A moment, Captain," said T'Pol.

"Yes, yes, T'Pol," said Trip, "I know Vulcans don't typically drink alcohol. I'll buy you an iced tea."

"Not that, Captain," said T'Pol. "You said that Captain Reed would show me his... 'trick', I believe you called it."

Trip looked at Malcolm, and the man shrugged back at Trip, then said, "It will only take a moment."

"All right, T'Pol," said Trip, and placed a banana next to T'Pol.

The Vulcan raised brow at Captain Tucker.

"That's a phaser, T'Pol, or maybe a wrench, or a chef's knife, or any number of potential weapons found aboard a ship," said Malcolm, drawing T'Pol's attention. "You're one of many Xindi Reptilians scattered through a number of ships, and your ship is engaged in combat with the evil forces of Humans driven mad. I say Reptilians, because they're easier to affect than the Insectoids."

"All right," said T'Pol, uncertain of where this was all going.

"If you squeeze that banana," said Malcolm, "you've used your weapon."

"I understand," said T'Pol. "Now what?"

A moment later, T'Pol blinked several times, and looked round her, confused. She stood now behind Trip, a handful of his hair in her left hand, as the right held the banana to his head, or rather what was left of it, for she had squeezed the base of the banana to mush.

"Congratulations, Reptilian warrior," said Malcolm, "you've just killed your captain, or perhaps your Helmsman, or Comm officer, as a battle with the Humans rages all around you."

"What?" said T'Pol.

"Yes," said Trip. "Think about it. While a battle rages, Xindi are suddenly killing their commanders, or perhaps doctors their patients, chefs killing the crew, security officers walking the halls while opening fire on any they meet, etc… Each and every act increases the chaos aboard the Xindi ship, and has to be suppressed, which takes attention off the Human attack. Malcolm can incite hundreds of Xindi, and there are two more psions like Malcolm in the fleet, with the power to incite action in a number of Xindi. For only a brief time, true, but long enough, and hopefully more than once a battle."

"I see," said T'Pol.

She saw immediately how disruptive the use of Captain Reed's 'trick' could be during the already hectic environment of a ship at war, and T'Pol was frankly disturbed by it all, but really, was it any different than shooting a photon torpedo at a ship and killing that number of people? Still…

* * *

"Commander Owens," said Trip from the Captain's Chair of the Columbia, "report."

"We've just sent our data pack back to Earth, Captain," said Owens. "They'll receive it in a month or so."

"Good," said Trip.

He'd ordered that information communicated back to Earth. His captain's logs with all of his daily reports, as well as battle reports, wins, losses, commendations, and a list of fallen crewmen and ships lost, and most importantly the starmap data pack with the current location of the new Xindi homeworld, as well as Trip's stated intention to attack the Xindi. It would take the Border Fleet twenty-two days to reach the Xindi homeworld, so that by the time StarFleet received the info packet, the fate of the Border Fleet would already be decided, one way or the other.

"All ships report ready, sir," said Commander Owens.

"Energize," said Trip, and the one hundred forty three Human and Andorian ships each entered their own private Xindi vortex, yet all headed for a shared destiny.


	11. Chapter 11

— **Chapter 11—**

There was no practical way to conceal the approach of an entire fleet from the Xindi, so the Border Fleet set course directly and expeditiously for the Xindi homeworld, by continually interspersing vortex jumps with normal warp speed drive flight, and at the end of the twenty-two days, the Border Fleet dropped out of warp to stand on the outskirts of the Xindi system. It was fairly unremarkable as such things went, with a Class F White Star which burned a bit hotter and brighter than the Class G Yellow Star of the Sol system, which Earth orbited. This star held six planets in its orbit, and the Xindi had chosen the fourth planet, an L Class Marginal planet, 18,090km diameter, rocky, barren, hot, and dry. A dump by Human standards, a veritable paradise where the Reptilian and Insectoid races of the Xindi species were concerned.

A paradise apparently worth fighting for as far as the Xindi were concerned, for a combined Xindi fleet of Reptilian and Insectoid ships awaited the Border Fleet at the edge of the solar system, some two billion kilometers beyond the orbit of the 6th planet. There were no overtures of peace or offers of negotiations from either side, and the Border Fleet spread out horizontally, to match the length of the Xindi fleet, if not the height or depth, for the Xindi fleet outnumbered the Human by a factor of five to one.

Shran commanded this battle, for this truly was a do or die situation, and the focus and aggression of the Imperial Guards fit the requirements of this battle like hand in glove, while Trip would be more useful in his role as a psion. Of the Human psions, only the five high level telepaths, Trip among them, and the three so called Mind Swords, Malcolm among them, would be able to affect this battle in any way, for the lesser psions could not project enough psychic force to affect such large scale engagements.

These eight psions stood on the Bridge of the Athena, Trip and Malcolm having given command of their ships to their executive officers for the duration of this battle, that they might cause more damage to the Xindi using their psionic talents. All other StarFleet and Andorian personnel were at their accustomed stations, while the thousands of MACO soldiers under the command of Colonel Hayes were armed to the teeth and spread throughout the ships, ready to repel Xindi boarders if necessary.

The battle was joined without delay, as the five telepaths focused on triggering the fight instinct of the Reptilians, while channeling that instinct towards other Reptilians. It was not a difficult thing to do, since the Reptilians had always seen the others of their kind as their fiercest competitors for rank and power. They opened fire on other Reptilian ships, while the Border Fleet focused their attentions on the Insectoid ships, as the minds of the Insectoids were alien enough to make psionic contact less effective, on top of which, the Insectoids could not be turned against each other, as could the Reptilians, due to their love for the other.

The effects of this first use of psionic power against the Xindi were devastating, but gradually, the officers aboard the Reptilian ships regained some semblance of control, and strove to impose that control on their subordinates, but just as they were beginning to make some progress, Reptilian crewman started killing Reptilian crewman, as the Mind Swords incited hundreds of acts of calculated homicide in the most susceptible of Reptilians through their mental commands, and by the end of it, the cohesion of the Reptilians was shattered, which was only made worse when the five psions attacked the Reptilians once more, this time with hallucinations of pain and madness, and then, once more by triggering their fear and flight instinct to such a degree that many Reptilians were virtually paralyzed by fear. Three StarFleet squadrons broke off from their engagement with the Insectoids on Shran's orders, to come deliver killing blows to all but helpless Reptilian battlecruisers.

This entire time, the Helmsman of the Athena had kept the ship in motion, while studiously avoiding front line combat, and five Insectoid ships noted that fact, and joined in a kamikaze attack on the Athena. The first ship missed the Athena, and was fired upon by Commander Hanshiro as the two passed each other. The Insectoid ship spun out of control and into a StarFleet frigate, destroying them both. The next two were fired upon, and destroyed on their way in, by other frigates, while the Dauntless deliberately placed itself between the fourth ship and the Xindi, firing the entire time, however the Insectoid ship was not destroyed, and plowed into the Dauntless, taking half the ship with it in a fiery explosion, while the other half of the Dauntless spun off into space, the screams of hundreds of crewmen reverberating through the Comm units of the Border Fleet. There was no time to aid them now. The Athena maneuvered for room in which to engage the last Xindi ship, and eventually won that contest, at the cost of a dozen injuries and a few deaths.

Two of the psions were exhausted now, but the three Mind Swords and the other two psions repeated their attack patterns against the Reptilians, aided now in causing havoc and destruction among the Xindi Reptilians by three more StarFleet squadrons which Shran had ordered into battle against them. Trip, the only psion who had managed to penetrate the Insectoid mind, did so now, in order to aid Shran. The Insectoids felt him in their collective, and hissed and screamed their displeasure into his mind, trying to dislodge him from the collective, while he fed crippling thoughts of death and fear into the Insectoid collective.

Six hours into the battle, every psion was exhausted and all but useless, and the Border Fleet was badly bloodied, having lost sixty-one ships, while the Andorians lost twenty-four battle cruisers. But if the Border Fleet was bloodied, the Xindi Fleet was done for, as a cohesive fighting force, and it was here that the Xindi had a last surprise for humanity, for they lifted off planet in ships, and took the ships already in orbit, past the event horizon of the black hole, only to eventually be drawn into the heart of the black hole, as the Border Fleet watched in silence.

"Good riddance," said Malcolm, but T'Pol merely looked thoughtful.

"What?" said Trip, taking note of T'Pol's look.

"It is fascinating," said T'Pol. "The research indicates that black holes may well be portals into other universes, and the Xindi, given the knowledge the Guardians shared with them, may also know this to be true."

"You mean we'll have to worry about them coming back, Captain?" said Jemez, the Athena's XO.

"No, Commander," said T'Pol. "It would take them billions and billions of years at high warp speed to return, which essentially means that they will never return. If the theory is correct, and if they still live, they will have whole new worlds to conquer, far from Humans, Guardians, and the other Xindi races. They are on their own now, to sink or float."

* * *

The return of the Border Fleet was greeted with great celebration by Earth, and subdued acceptance by the Xindi Arboreals, Aquatics and Primates, who considered their brethren's fate deserved, if tragic… These three Xindi species joined the fledgling organization, named the Federation, an idea brought forth by Admiral Archer as a way to avoid future tragedies, such as took place between the Xindi and humanity. Fellow signatories to the Federation charter were the Andorians, Vulcans and Tellarites, and there was great hope that it would, in time, encompass hundreds, or even thousands of allied species under its banner.

In light of the Border Fleet's victorious conclusion to the Xindi crisis, promotions and commendations were handed out like candy to the survivors, and the fallen were honored by all. The fleet was disbanded, for the still surviving ships needed stringent safety checks and months of repair time, and so the members of the former Border Fleet were given four months off in order to recuperate, before eventually returning to new posts.

* * *

Walking through the halls of StarFleet's HQ building, Trip looked at T'Pol and smiled. The Vulcan looked back at him, her face composed, but with the hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth. They'd just spoken to Admiral Forrest and notified the man that they were personally involved, and that they planned to formalize their relationship. They further stated that they would not be separated by distance in the course of their duties and were prepared to tender their resignations if that fact should cause StarFleet to doubt their ability to work together effectively in service of the fleet. Where things would go with StarFleet, neither knew, for Forrest had simply told them that the matter would be discussed by the Admiralty Commission.

"So," said T'Pol, looking intently at Trip, "we have told StarFleet that we would formalize our relationship, Captain Tucker."

Trip nodded, and glanced at his watch.

"By Vulcan custom," said T'Pol, "a union is created when a couple is Bonded, Captain Tucker."

"That's interesting, T'Pol," said Trip. "Isn't it wonderful, the many customs that beings all across the univers—"

"Yes, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol. "It is quite interesting. As I was saying, Vulcans are considered mated when they are Bonded, and you promised me that once this Xindi incident was behind us, you and I would be Bonded."

"I did?" said Trip. "Must be all the excitement. I don't remember saying that."

"Well, I certainly do, Captain Tucker. Quite clearly. I said when, meaning when will you Bond me, and you said, when this is over, meaning the Xindi situation. That situation is now resolved, so I ask again, Captain Tucker. When?"

"Relax, baby, we'll talk about it sometime, there's no hurry," said Trip, "We'll get to it when we get to it, sometime in the future. Probably sometime next year, or the year after, maybe…"

"Excuse me, Mr. Tucker?" said T'Pol, in disbelief, for this man had been subtly pursuing her the entire time they'd known each other, and now this? "You made a promise, and now you claim to have trouble remembering that promise. Explain yourself!"

"Come on, let's get out of here, and begin our vacation, T'Pol," said Trip, turning to lead the way. "I know a shortcut out of here."

T'Pol reached out to hold Trip's arm in order to compel the man to finish their conversation, and with her empath's touch she felt his amusement, and now understood his conduct.

"Oh, come on, Trip!" said T'Pol. "Seriously? You are playing with me!"

Trip smiled, and said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"It is quite possible that I am about to attempt to murder you now, Captain Tucker! Prepare to defend yourself."

"That would be an illogical act on your part, my little Vulcan friend."

"Special," said T'Pol. "Special Vulcan friend, and just until tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yes, after tonight, I will be your tel'su, your Bondmate."

"You seem quite confident in making such an inflammatory statement, T'Pol."

"Oh, I am," said T'Pol. "We will see the sun rise tomorrow as Bondmates, or you will sleep with the fish, like Luca Brasi."

Trip cracked up at that, for they'd watched The Godfather the night before, and T'Pol had clearly learned the fine art of negotiation from the Corleone family, and the way of making offers which could not be refused. He looked around and determined that the hallway was empty, as T'Pol's Vulcan sense of propriety would not allow blatant public displays of affection, and then Trip leaned in to give T'Pol a quick peck on the lips.

"Well?" said T'Pol, brow raised, for she was too cunning to be distracted by a sweet kisses. "What is your decision?"

"If my choices are a life of bondage," said Trip with a smile, "that is to say, being Bonded to you, or sleeping with the fishes, well, logic dictates that I choose you, and choose life."

"A logical decision, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, somehow conveying a look of satisfaction, despite an ostensibly neutral look on her face.

"Oh, you're so smug when you win, T'Pol," said Trip. "I already hate you, and we're not even Bonded!"

"Nonsense, Captain. You love me."

* * *

From StarFleet's HQ they took a cab to Jon's house where they threw a few things in a duffel bag, before taking a cab to the docks. There, they boarded Trip's classic Back Cove power cruiser, a Downeast 37 model named Kingfish, and cast off from the shore. They spent the next four months cruising down the California coast all the way down the Baja Peninsula of Mexico, being accompanied frequently by pods of dolphins which seemed to take a special delight in showing off for them, and at other times a seal or two, but for T'Pol, the highlight of her encounters with marine life came when they snorkled and swam with the whales. So they swam, and surfed, and T'Pol tanned while Trip fished. They dived to view the beautiful reefs at Cabo Pulmo, they played with frolicking sea lions while admiring the tropical fish at the beautiful Isla Espíritu Santo, and later, at Balandra they admired the majestic manta rays.

Still, not every moment was spent at sea, for they pulled in daily at one of the small villages or towns, where they pigged out on the fine peasant cooking of Mexico, so rich in variety, flavors and spices, and often enough they chose to spend the night in one of the many small charming inns, scattered here and there, rather than the cruiser's bedroom, simply for the novelty of the experience, as every inn was specialized as far as their amenities, such as hot springs bathing at one inn, guided cave diving trips by another inn owner, etc... and lastly, they shopped for a variety of beautiful hand made goods in the traditional markets, and most especially in the town of Todos Santos which was renowned for the quality of its arts and crafts. Trip's prize was a beautiful clay bean pot, useful for cooking much more than just beans, while T'Pol found a heavy silver necklace of abstract design, which T'Les, her mother, was sure to find lovely.

For T'Pol, the hundred or so days they spent in Baja was a magical time, and wonderfully exotic, and when they finally disembarked from the Kingfish, she looked back at the boat fondly, only tearing her eyes from it when she noticed Admiral Archer approaching the boat.

"Look at you two," said Archer, smiling at T'Pol, after a brief hug and back slap with Trip. "You both look great."

And it was true. The wind, the sun and the water had bleached their hair, though it was more noticeable in T'Pol, and their golden tans were magnificent.

"How was the honeymoon?" said Archer.

"It was wonderful, Admiral," said T'Pol.

"She tried to kill me, driven by an insatiable mating lust," said Trip, with a perverted grin.

Archer laughed, while T'Pol frowned.

"We do not joke of such things, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.

"Maybe you don't," said Trip. "I do."

T'Pol sighed and lowered her head, while Archer laughed at T'Pol's gesture of defeat.

"I see you caught your BlackSand Hawk, T'Pol," said Archer, who had seen the way things would shake out between Trip and T'Pol in his vision.

"No, your prediction was accurate, Admiral," said T'Pol. "It was he that captured me, years ago, though I did not realize that fact until I awoke from my coma."

"And did he put an end to you?" said Archer, recalling the entirety of his prediction.

T'Pol reflected on the Admiral's question. For the longest time, frankly for her entire life, she had always walled herself off from life, always keeping others at arm's length, and although her professional life had prospered, her personal life was largely confined to her mother, and a few members of clan, and the result of that had been a personal life lived in a self-imposed isolation bubble of sorts, and stagnation on that front, but now, her logical affection for her tel'su and the momentous alteration of her emotional life caused by the Bond caused T'Pol to cast caution to the winds, and contemplate a life outside her little bubble, and she dared hope now that one day, she and Trip would make use of the knowledge of combining Vulcan and Human DNA, to begin a family of their own.

"That he did, Admiral," said T'Pol. "That he did."

.

—o—

*In the interests of fair play, I will confess that the line 'Explain yourself!' which T'Pol directs at Trip, was shamelessly stolen by me from Bri Wesmoreland, who questioned my literary decisions in a comment. It cracked me up for some reason, so I thought to include it here, after confessing my guilt.


End file.
